


Chi Omega

by Klavier



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Angst, Crack, Fluff, Gen, M/M, OT12 - Freeform, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7837813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klavier/pseuds/Klavier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pledges," Junmyeon spread his arms wide. "This is Chi Omega, South Korea's top musical interest frat and one of the most exclusive organizations on campus. To become a full member you must first declare a major in the school of music, keep above a 3.0 GPA, and survive a semester of pleasant initiation."</p><p>Easy, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chi Omega

**Author's Note:**

> o hy mgod  
> okay, totally and utterly inspired by Beta Tau Sigma - bazooka, if you haven't read that masterpiece go now.  
> this was basically a large-winded excuse to torture the maknae line with gratuitous chansoo. it's the longest piece I've finished in years and I am sorry for all of it. it's a complete sporadic mess with so much happening off-screen and inconsistencies with uni in korea that I took HUGE liberties with, but! here goes!! my angsty crackfic 'I'm going to hell' mess!  
> please check the ending notes for warnings and clarifications!

_160908, END OF RUSH WEEK_

 

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

  
"It's the last house," Sehun said. He slid an arm around Jongin's tense shoulders. The muffled sound of an intense beat drop reached their spot on the sidewalk all the way from the open windows of Beta Tau Sigma, their previous target. Nam-something poured generous shots. Sehun was just beginning to feel it warm up his chest.

  
"You know why I don't want to go in," Jongin stepped away. His eyebrows pinched. What a pouting puppy. "And I don't want to pledge there. I know what it's like."

  
Tao scoffed. His blue jumper zipped all the way to his nose, and his words came out garbled. "You went to one party two years ago! Someone handed you a joint and you fucking ran."

  
"We're not signing a blood contract, we're just saying hi," Sehun said, and the matter was closed.

  
Sehun and Tao both marched up the walkway towards the Chi Omega house. _The Music Explorations frat_. Easily the largest house on Greek row. Faux pillars extended outwards from the mahogany door. Three stories up, a balcony curled around the western wall. Fir branches skimmed its edges. White paint peeled near the gutter, flaking off and blowing into the neighbor's yard.

  
A massive brass lion greeted them from the door. A literal knocker. Sehun had never seen one outside of pretentious movies. Fucking awesome.

  
The lights were low. A buzz of incoherent noise, music or words or something else, leaked from the thin line of light between the door and the threshold. Jongin followed but kept his head down, moody, as Sehun rapped the lion's handle once, twice, three times.

  
A pause. Tao flapped blindly for Sehun's hand. He ignored it.

  
The door opened. A very tall, skinny guy in a black sweater stood in the doorframe. He held a red cup in one hand and a pair of drumsticks in the other. The grin stretching across his face tipped closer to psychotic than welcoming, and Sehun's eyes caught on the bulge of his bicep.

  
Several things happened at once, then.

  
"Hi, welcome to - " the guy started to say, just as Jongin made some sort of quiet squeaking noise, and the general volume level spiked when someone in the depths of the house screamed.  
"Minseokkie, you owe me 10 000 won!" someone said, and then, "hey, who let Chanyeol answer the door?"

  
Tall and Creepy - Chanyeol, apparently - frowned. He ushered them inside Sehun was too numb to hesitate. He ignored the unreasonable chill of fear, anchored onto Tao's octopus fingers, and stepped forward.

  
The foyer, as expected, matched the exquisite curb appeal of the house. They were greeted by a high ceiling, a large black-and-white Chi Omega tapestry, and an immediate opening into an expansive sitting room. A massive set of speakers vibrated to something foreign, something hip hop. Some of the members wore suits, as customary for pledge week - but just as many lounged in skinny jeans, sweatshirts, and _was that a wolf onesie_ -

  
A shorter blonde guy in a gray suit stepped around Chanyeol, blocking Sehun's view. "Luhan, vice president. Welcome to Chi Omega. I knew Junmyeon's little brother would pledge. It will be great to have you, Jongin-ah."

  
He beamed and bowed after each shaky introduction, repeating Sehun's and Tao's names for clarification. Luhan looked older - definitely old enough to be Junmyeon's year. Pretty teeth and pretty skin. His smile lingered on Jongin, who shrunk into Tao's side like a wilting flower. Oh, shit.

  
Chanyeol turned and hollered over the music, "PLEDGES ARE HERE!"

  
Scratch that - oh, fuck.

  
The effect was instantaneous. Everyone spoke at once - something about _no cakes this time right_ , something about _take a deep breath Baekhyun-ah_. Luhan pushed them forward until Sehun sat squashed between Jongin and Tao on a creaky green couch. The sleeve of his blazer caught in Tao's zipper as he tried to unwrap himself from his excessive autumn coat. The mass of boys in front of him - a dozen at least, maybe more - swarmed and swirled with pinpoint organization until they reformed into a new shape. The movement was fascinating to watch. Like people following in the wake of others, so attuned that they neither watched nor collided.

  
Over the cacophony of voices, Sehun picked up one that he knew - just as Junmyeon in a classy black suit was unceremoniously shoved forward. Someone turned the music down. Each member of Chi Omega crammed themselves on or over the opposite couch and set unblinking eyes on the three freshmen.

  
"Uh," Sehun said.

  
"Pledges," Junmyeon interrupted, spreading his arms wide, "this is Chi Omega, South Korea's top musical interest frat and one of the most exclusive organizations on campus. To become a full member you must first declare a major in the school of music, keep above a 3.0 GPA, and survive a semester of pleasant initiation."

  
Sehun desperately tried to communicate with his eyes to _stop talking please dear God Junmyeon-hyung we aren't pledging abort abort abort_ -

  
Junmyeon didn't catch his drift. Instead, he conspired a smile at Jongin.

  
"Although I'm sure you already knew that," Junmyeon said, eyes literally twinkling. Like a fucking Disney prince. "So let's get to the real questions - who are you? Why should we take you on as pledges?"

  
Some distant part of Sehun's brain screamed. He vividly pictured the moment they finally escaped the house: Jongin would unwind the blue scarf around his neck and use it to slowly strangle Sehun. That would be it. The end of his life. And he would deserve it, probably, for suggesting a visit to Junmyeon-hyung in the first place. Of course there would be a misunderstanding. It was pledge week, and a Chi Omega legacy just walked into the house. Of course.

  
It felt like Tao froze in fear. Dear, poor Jongin couldn't meet his brother's eyes; he stared at the ground mournfully. Fucking shit. The members of Chi Omega gawked. One of them coughed awkwardly as the silence stretched on. It was up to Sehun.

  
He opened his mouth fully intending to set the situation right, but what came out was, "Oh Sehun, 18, valedictorian, dance major, from Seoul."

  
Surprised, Junmyeon turned to Sehun. He'd definitely expected someone else to answer first - and though he didn't look disappointed, necessarily, he was definitely caught off-guard. Luhan, perched on the arm of the couch, looked between the Kim brothers. Back and forth. Suspicious.

  
"Huang Zitao, 18. Umm, freelance rapper, dance major, transfer from Qingdao, China," Tao piped up.

  
Jongin had no choice. He looked everywhere but at his brother. Sehun could nearly hear him begging the fucking couch to explode. Anything.

  
Feet tapped. Silence dragged. Finally, Jongin brushed a lock of blonde hair off his forehead. "Kim Jongin, 18, president of the dance team, also dance major, also from Seoul."

  
Junmyeon looked faint with relief. The members burst into scattered applause and wolf-whistles. The tension in the room seemed to thaw. Jongin slumped back, defeated. Sehun reached to put his arm around him and whisper - it could be worse, Jonginnie, you just agreed to be a pledge not a full member you can still make an excuse and get out of it - but Chi Omega descended upon them.  
A very excited brunette speaking rapid-fire Mandarin tugged Tao off the couch. Unbalanced, Sehun nearly fell sideways, but Tall and Creepy slid into the empty spot.

  
"Park Chanyeol," he said, and bowed so quickly he nearly smacked Sehun in the face. Sehun nervously returned the bow. The couch dipped when Jongin stood up, but Sehun didn't get a chance to turn and see where he went. He was alone with the wolves. Figuratively, anyway.

  
"Welcome to Chi Omega. I swear on John Lennon's grave that you'll love it here," Chanyeol said, "but there are a couple of pledge rules. Let's get you started on those. First, you're not allowed in the liquor closet. Or on the roof. Or on the third floor at all, actually. Don't puke in the house or Junmyeon will have an aneurysm. Don't tell anyone outside of Chi Omega about our... projects. Musical or otherwise. Last but not least, don't refuse Kyungsoo's cooking. Ever. Just don't do it."

  
"One more rule," someone said off of Chanyeol's shoulder. He draped himself over the back of the couch, fiddling with an obnoxious orange beanie. "I'm Kim Jongdae, and the most important thing to remember is that we abbreviate as XO. None of that CO shit. Don't forget it. Good luck, Sehun-ah!"

  
He was fucked.

 

* * *

 

CHI OMEGA PLEDGE RULES & HANDBOOK

  
1\. Liquor cabinet is off-limits. So is the roof. So this the third floor. If you are caught in any of these places, you will be de-pledged immediately.  
2\. Don't puke in the house. Minus one hundred points.  
3\. You are bound to a vow of silence. You are not allowed to talk to anyone outside of Chi Omega about Chi Omega events, brothers, or general house-wide happenings. Minus fifty points.  
4\. Don't refuse Kyungsoo's cooking. Minus twenty-five points.  
5\. Each pledge must learn to play a musical instrument he has no prior experience with by the end of the semester. Failure of the practical exam at the end of the semester equates to immediate de-pledging.  
6\. At any given time, a brother may approach you and ask you to perform a song from the accompanying list. You must be prepared with at least forty-five seconds of vocals or original dance. If you fail, you lose fifty points.  
7\. Don't leave the group message at any time. Minus twenty-five points.  
8\. Always abbreviate Chi Omega as XO.

 

* * *

 

_160904, BEGINNING OF RUSH WEEK_

  
So far, the new semester was treating Chanyeol well.

  
He was no longer a first-year. The ridiculous stigma associated with being a freshman in college had worn off - he could go to a party without everyone expecting him to get blackout drunk and do something totally embarrassing. No one would assume him to be a raging fuckup right off the bat. In some ways, it was easier to act more responsibly if the pressure was off.

  
At least, he liked to think so. Chanyeol unpacked his Rilakkumas and thought well, maybe not.

  
He had made a vow with Baekhyun and Jongdae to not repeat last semester. Their first few months as full-fledged members of Chi Omega were memorable, to say the least. It was a miracle all three were still breathing and not kicked out of the house altogether.

  
Not to mention he had an unpaid internship lined up with a low-scale recording studio in Ilsandong-gu. If everything went well, he would be learning on actual, legitimate equipment - not borrowed leftovers from the university tech room. The reminder sent a shiver of joy up his spine. Definitely better than freshman year.

  
"Hey," Jongdae called from the top of the stairs, "dinner's ready."

  
"'Kay."

  
"Where's Baekhyun?"

  
"I dunno," Chanyeol said, "he was already stressed out about a chem test this morning. I haven't seen him."

  
Jongdae made some sort of unsatisfied humming noise. Chanyeol dumped the rest of his shirts on the bed and shoved the empty suitcase underneath. Fuzzy orange light splintered through the blinds and across the black duvet, catching on the guitar placed reverently at the foot of his bed. A cloudy sunset in Seoul. Baekhyun's suitcase laid untouched.

  
He took the stairs out of the basement two at a time. If he lollygagged on the way to a meal, there would certainly be nothing left. Kyungsoo didn't cook for them all the time - but maybe twice a week. More often during finals. It served as a stress relief for him and an easy alternative to going out for everyone else.

  
Junmyeon waved absently from his seat at the window. A steaming bowl of bibimbap rested on one knee, and a recent economic journal on the other. As a senior, he was finishing up both his major in music business and minor in economics - an overachiever, as usual. His time around the house would likely be limited for the next two semesters.

  
The horde in the kitchen had already thickened. Chanyeol stuck an arm out and viciously barricaded Jongdae against the cabinet to reach the pot first.

  
"Please don't fight over my food," Kyungsoo snipped, "and if you're going to anyway, at least pick on Baekhyun instead."

  
"Where's he gone? It's weird that he's not here to eat," Jongdae said. He seemed unbothered that Chanyeol scooped the last dollop of seaweed. They sat together at the table. Across the room, Minseok and Luhan flipped on a football match.

  
Kyungsoo shrugged. As usual, he served himself last.

  
"Maybe he's still studying," Chanyeol said. He sucked on the end of a chopstick. Fuck, he'd missed Kyungsoo's bibimbap over the summer. He'd missed Kyungsoo's _everything_.

  
Kyungsoo leaned forward and lowered his voice so that only Chanyeol and Jongdae could hear. His thick, dark eyelashes brushed his cheeks when he trained his eyes on the wooden tabletop. "Last time I saw him," he murmured, "he was in a terrible mood. Apparently his hyung started another argument about music. I don't think he was leaving to study."

  
Technically, Baekhyun had yet to declare a major in music. His entire family sent weekly texts of passive aggressive ' _so how are your gen eds going? liking that science class? a real pity you aren't going into physics like baekbeom_.' His future in Chi Omega still rested on whether or not he'd chase his actual passions. By the end of this semester, Baekhyun needed to choose.

  
A terrible thought struck Chanyeol. A cluster of rice fell into his lap and Kyungsoo blinked at it.

  
He almost didn't want to speak out loud. But. "Did he take the keys?"

  
"I think so," Jongdae said, "why?"

  
But Kyungsoo had already caught up to Chanyeol. They looked at each other, and Chanyeol could tell by his downturned lips that it was a very real possibility that Baekhyun had taken his motorcycle out for a joyride - the motorcycle without insurance that he just barely knew how to ride. Fuck.

  
"I'll call him now," Chanyeol said, and shoveled a bit of meat into his mouth.

  
Baekhyun didn't pick up. The three of them retreated to the kitchen and crowded around Chanyeol's cell, ringing and ringing and ringing endlessly. Kyungsoo stepped away and scrubbed the pot with increasing fervor as time passed. Jongdae dialed twice, three times, before admitting defeat. They called Taeyeon and Jackson. Nothing.

  
Their hushed voices - bordering panicked now - attracted the attention of someone else in the house. Junmyeon rounded the corner, empty plate in hand, and stopped dead at the sight of them. Chanyeol averted his gaze. Junmyeon shouldn't know; Baekhyun was probably fine, and their president would only worry.

  
"Everything okay?" he asked, cautiously. He approached with a hand out and palm up.

  
"Yes," Kyungsoo said. Smooth as always.

  
"We're looking for Baekhyun," Jongdae added, and Chanyeol smacked him in the arm.

  
Jongdae whined - but kept his good-natured smile. He was always too malleable, always the one to spoil the surprise, especially to the president. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and recounted the situation to Junmyeon, who completely overreacted. Just like they knew he would.

  
"I'll just go out and look for him," Chanyeol said, "it's only been a few hours, hyung, I'm sure he's fine."

  
He didn't necessarily think Baekhyun was fine. But Junmyeon agreed and hurried them down the hall, offering to finish the dishes in Kyungsoo's stead.

  
"You're staying," Junmyeon said, grabbing the back of Jongdae's shirt. Chanyeol tried not to think too hard about the next half an hour of Jongdae's life - soap, suds, and likely an exemplification of Chi Omega's presidential prowess.

  
The motorcycle was missing from the curb.

  
What began as a clear sunset dripped into a foggy nightfall. Yellow light from streetlamps stuck in murky circles down the sidewalk. It was difficult to see directly across the street, let alone further down the block. Chanyeol pulled his sweater a little tighter.

  
Last year around this time, Chanyeol had stepped into the Chi Omega house for the first time. The intimidating size and architecture of the house took his breath away - but he nearly changed his mind right then and there when he walked through the foyer and saw three upperclassmen wildly trying to cover a phallic-shaped cake. Literally. A penis cake. With music notes shooting from the tip and "Welcome Back to XO" written in blue frosting.

  
Chanyeol was very glad he didn't let that episode scare him away. He would later receive a heartfelt apology from Luhan, who apparently ordered the cake himself and completely forgot about the "open house" rule during pledge week. It was a pretty accurate first impression of the frat, anyway.

  
Kyungsoo brushed their shoulders together as they walked. "Do you think he went to visit Taehyung?"

  
"We can check," Chanyeol said, but the Beta Tau Sigma house was empty and dark. No Baekhyun in sight. He wasn't shoved into a booth at the pizza place on the junction of Greek row and Campus Dr. He wasn't sweating on a treadmill in the gym. He wasn't in the basement of the student union, or the first floor, or the second floor -

  
Kyungsoo slowed to a stop in the stairwell of the student union. Between floors seven and eight, an enormous glass window stretched from floor to ceiling. The city lights twinkled crisp and clear on an ordinary night, but the current fog covered every inch in a swathe of moody gray.

  
It was hard to look away from Kyungsoo. Over the summer, he had tanned - Chanyeol's eyes caught on the movement of his arm against the window. Definitely thicker than in May. It hurt to look at Kyungsoo like this, so close in proximity, and still so distant. Chanyeol swallowed. Maybe, if he tried to speak -

  
"Hey," Chanyeol said. "We never - we never really - "

  
"We don't have to talk about it," Kyungsoo said. He didn't look away from the window.

  
Chanyeol's heart dropped seven and a half stories. A distant whistle followed by the thump of a slammed door somewhere below. The previous ten months flashed in his head. He felt suddenly nauseated and reached for the stair rail.

  
"Yeah," he said, belatedly. "You're right. I mean. As long as we're good?"

  
"Of course," Kyungsoo replied. He smiled at Chanyeol - tiny. It didn't stretch to his eyes. But it was an effort, a peace offering, that didn't come naturally. Thin fluorescent light lit the stairwell and the side of Kyungsoo's face.

  
Chanyeol blinked. Distantly, thunder rolled. A warm September storm. This was just another thing he could sweep under the rug. It could be worse. He crafted a smile for Kyungsoo, slung an arm over his shoulders - larger than he remembered, broader - and said, "Okay. C'mon, we have to find Baekhyunnie before he gets washed to Shandong."

  
They traipsed amicably throughout campus, poking heads into various buildings until seeking refuge from the gathering chill in the library. The enormous foyer sat nearly empty and silent - only employees rustled pages behind the desk. No one would study on the first day back.

  
"This place is deserted. He's not going to be here," Chanyeol said.

  
"The library has ten floors."

  
"If he was just studying, he would have answered our calls."

  
Kyungsoo shrugged to that, and they moved to the elevator. Starting from the top of the library they worked their way down, tip-toeing dreamlike throughout the endless stacks of books. Chanyeol himself hadn't spent much time in the library after an Incident freshman year that left him shaken and affirmed that voyeurism wasn't one of his kinks. God, the atrocity of college students. What part of "Encyclopedias from the 1970's" was a turn on?

  
Chanyeol thumped his head against a bookcase on the fourth floor. Indo-European branches of languages. Great. They'd never find Baekhyun at this rate. They were more likely to perish themselves, lost and dehydrated amongst the dry, dusty wasteland of books...

  
He checked his phone. 12:43 am. The library closed in 15 minutes.

  
Chanyeol waved Kyungsoo over from the window, where he seemed to be peering at the scattered passerbys on the ground. "I'm calling Junmyeon."

  
They pressed together, shoulder to shoulder. Kyungsoo's eyes roamed the shelves. He crossed his arms and looked up, as if preemptively praying for the library gods to forgive their phone call. Whatever. They were alone. It only rang twice.

  
" _Hello_?"

  
"We can't find him, hyung. We've been all over campus."

  
A muffled pause. Murmuring in the background.

  
" _Okay, come back to the house. It's too late to go driving around, we won't see him anywhere. Let's hope he comes back by tomorrow morning_."

  
Chanyeol hesitated. He felt intensely uncomfortable going back to the house - like he was giving up on Baekhyun. Several worried mutterings echoed over the phone line. He had a terrible feeling about the motorcycle. His first class tomorrow didn't start until noon. Kyungsoo's was early, at nine, but Chanyeol could stay out alone. He could keep looking, keep calling...

  
As he started to tell Junmyeon that he would keep searching by himself, Kyungsoo intervened. "We're going to keep looking, hyung," he said softly. He looked at Chanyeol. "Let us know if he gets back to the house."

  
Junmyeon sighed. " _Alright. Be safe, okay? Call if you find him_."

  
"Bye, hyung," Chanyeol said, and ended the call. He was still looking at Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo was still looking at him. For a tiny, lightning-flash second, it seemed like Kyungsoo would speak. His pink lips moved, but -

  
"The library will be closing in ten minutes. Please do not leave any belongings here overnight."

  
The moment snapped. The PA system crackled off, they were tossed into silence again, and Kyungsoo looked away. Chanyeol watched him bite his lip. Fuck. Kyungsoo had chosen to stay. It shouldn't be a big deal, it wasn't, but it felt like it. It felt like Chanyeol hadn't ruined everything with his earlier question. It felt like first semester of freshman year again, when they first tentatively fell into one another.

  
They wordlessly headed for the elevator. Someone's shoe scuffed against the carpet. A fluorescent light flickered. He desperately needed small talk.

  
"Do you have work tomorrow?"

  
"No," Kyungsoo said, "I start next week. Do you have your internship tomorrow?"

  
"No, I start next week."

  
They shared small smiles.

  
For the next hour, they traipsed off-campus and hit every major student hangout. The 24-hour sushi joint, the steps of the Buddhist temple where upperclassmen liked to smoke up, the sparse park beside the Han, the tteokbokki cart, the bubble tea shack with late night specials. No Baekhyun and no Baekhyun's motorcycle.

  
Another chilled breeze nearly tossed Kyungsoo off-balance on University Place. Chanyeol helped steady him. They both laughed a little. The seeping exhaustion from late-night stress probably made them delirious, but he hardly noticed. The longer they searched, the more hopeless it seemed.

  
2:25 am. Chanyeol's phone light blinded him. A stray Honda drove down the empty street, and its taillights reflected fractures of crimson off the boarded windows of a nail salon. A dog barked in the distance. Several blocks east, sirens wailed.

  
Kyungsoo rubbed his eyes. "I don't know where else to look," he admitted. When a second gust of wind hit, he shivered violently.

  
"I should've asked him about the chem test," Chanyeol lamented. He understood Baekhyun's stress. He understood how to calm it, too, with a cup of coffee and open ears.

  
"It's not your fault."

  
"I know what he's like. Remember when he decided he was a _tactual-kinesthetic learner_ and tried memorizing Tech terms by dribbling a football with Minseok hyung?"

  
"Yeah, he tripped in his slip-ons and whined for two weeks."

  
They stopped at an empty intersection. The pedestrian light winked red. "He doesn't handle stress well," Chanyeol conceded.

  
Kyungsoo's unblinking eyes reflected the dismal, stretched light. When the signal changed, they walked across the asphalt quickly. Seoul wasn't meant to be so quiet. Each crunch of loose cement under their shoes sounded too close. A zoomed-in solitude.

  
At this point, every nearby crawl was closed. Baekhyun would've been kicked out of any pub or restaurant an hour ago. The drudging monotony of circling the campus collected like a weight on Chanyeol's shoulders.

  
He envisioned the last time Baekhyun caused this level of concern: secondary school, the night Baekhyun coaxed Chanyeol into sneaking into a senior's party but accidentally led them to a sketchy niche in Meyongdong. They wandered for an hour, past Chanel and the shopping district speckled with tourists, until a man in a dark hoodie knocked Baekhyun down with one bony shoulder and nicked his phone. Chanyeol would never forget the slice along Baekhyun's arm from the adjacent fence - spitting, alive, crimson, and everywhere. Six stitches.

  
But this was not secondary school. He wasn't within arm's reach of Baekhyun, he couldn't simply squeeze the pain away and babble off terrible jokes as distraction.

  
The next intersection was the southernmost tip of campus. After a row of engineering labs with long, foreign names, a grassy quad opened up that led straight to Greek row.

  
"Let's head back," Chanyeol said.

  
"Are you sure?" Kyungsoo asked. His hesitance meant he was more exhausted than he let on.

  
They turned deeper into campus. Toward home. "If something did happen, we wouldn't be able to find him. He could have gone anywhere."

  
Defeat quieted them. Chanyeol rubbed his left eye, uncomfortably dry in the late hour. A drunken laugh echoed from a building to the right. The dull, repetitive memory of Baekhyun's bleeding arm replayed again and again. Blood-smell, the rawness, Baekhyun's wet hair. Antiseptic. Rewind, breath, play, rewind, breath, play -

  
A light on the third floor. They reached the cold house and Chanyeol realized he couldn't remember the past ten minutes. His rhythmic breaths had sped. Quietly lightheaded, he leaned against the outside wall beside the door. The possibility of his closest friend bleeding into a gutter swarmed in and around his head. Everything, loud and too close and indistinguishable. A cud of fear in the back of his throat. Kyungsoo placed himself toe-to-toe with Chanyeol and touched his waist.

  
"Hey," Kyungsoo said. Bright, believable eyes. Chanyeol focused on him instead of the terrifying thing in his own chest - that beating leviathan, that struggling monster. His heart was so fast. It almost hurt.

  
Chanyeol leaned his head back against the door. A nauseating slip. "What?"

  
"You're freaking out. You have to relax."

  
"I'm okay."

  
"Not really."

  
Two firm hands tilted Chanyeol away from the door. It opened. For a wild second, he thought he saw a silhouette against the dark of the couch -

  
Kyungsoo shut the door. Light split away, the figure disappeared, and they shuffled slowly downstairs. Chanyeol had to hold tight to the railing. He had the adrenaline for three marathons, but the balance and coordination of a crawling baby. Still, his heart beat so fast.

  
The room was empty. Kyungsoo led them both to Chanyeol's bed, where they crawled straight under the covers. Dim gray shadows followed their clumsy movements. It was very, very quiet. Chanyeol kicked off his shoes and jeans and shirt, didn't think, and touched each of his fingers to his freezing skin.

  
Like a little nightingale, Kyungsoo started to hum. His shoes and jeans were slung neat over the dresser. A tangled fluff of hair stuck up from the pillow. Any strange feelings Chanyeol should be experiencing - the normal happy buzz of _Kyungsoo-yah_ , the novel warmth of _Kyungsoo-yah in bed with me_ , and the leftover awkwardness from their last bedroom encounter... everything faded.

  
Kyungsoo's humming ebbed. It was something soft and airy that Chanyeol finally recognized as Adam Levine's _Lost Stars_. They laid together on opposite ends of the pillow, face-to-face. Chanyeol had to close his eyes. He took deep breaths.

  
"He's fine. I promise," Kyungsoo whispered, and Chanyeol felt his lips move against the pillow. It required total concentration to nod back in response. Somehow, he grabbed stable reality with both hands and pulled himself up, up, up towards the voice, towards the sheets, towards the room that was no longer empty.

  
Chanyeol felt cavernous breaths catch and fill. Finally. The dizziness swept away in waves as fast as it came. Appendages went limp - first his hands, then his arms, then both legs at once. This kind of visceral, physical reaction rarely happened for him - this borderline panic attack. His heart rate slowed.

  
Sleep. But first.

  
Chanyeol opened his eyes, meaning to say thank you, but Kyungsoo's chest moved gentle and slow. His thick lips were parted a sliver, as if waiting to reply. Shut eyes, soft skin. One hand lax in the neutral territory between their warm bodies. Reaching out or crafting a barrier?

  
_Please be okay, Baekhyun you absolute fucking dumbass_ , Chanyeol thought, and then nothing.

 

  
When he woke up, an alarm screamed, "EVERYTIME I SEE YOU, GEUDAE NUNEUL BOL TTAEMYEON - " and Kyungsoo rolled straight out of bed.

  
A faint moan from the bundle of clothes on the floor. Sun in the high windows, stiffness in Chanyeol's neck, and when he shifted, he felt no pants on his body. Okay. Kyungsoo muttered something that might be an apology and slammed a hand over his phone. The alarm stopped.

  
Chanyeol sat up so fast he almost fell right onto Kyungsoo. The bed across the room was still empty. Drawers and books, untouched. He slumped back down and covered his face with both hands. Fuck. "What time 'sit?"

  
"Eight forty."

  
Baekhyun had been unreachable for almost fifteen hours now. Blindly, Chanyeol swept a hand over the bedside table for a familiar square shape. No new messages on his phone.

  
"If you're still sleeping when I get back," Kyungsoo shuffled to his feet, "I'll wake you up for class."

  
Shuffling fabric. Chanyeol closed his eyes. "Thanks."

  
He turned up the volume on his phone all the way, rolled over, and tried to fall back to sleep. The sheets were still warm where Kyungsoo's body had been, and Chanyeol surreptitiously slid his legs into the now-empty pocket. Someone thumped on the second floor. He flipped the pillow and settled into the cooler side.

  
_Ding. Ding_. Chanyeol jerked up and grabbed the phone.

  
minnie  
_good morning xo_  
_happy first day of classes!_

  
Fuck. He slumped down and gorged himself on the pillow - pulling it up around his cheeks so that he couldn't breathe. Minseok hyung likely had no idea Baekhyun was gone. The momentary spike in adrenaline ebbed. He wouldn't be going back to sleep. He couldn't.

  
Chanyeol heard the door to the basement open. Light footsteps. He cracked open one eye to check the time - only nine fifteen. Kyungsoo probably forgot something.

  
He rolled over. Baekhyun froze in the doorway, a textbook hung under one arm and hair exploding outward like a firecracker on his head. He wore the same jeans and tee as yesterday, and his eyes were overly-wide. "Sorry," he whispered, "didn't mean to wake you."

  
The relief at seeing him uninjured and unharmed was short. Chanyeol sat up so fast he felt wind in his hair. "Where were you?"

  
"In the library. My phone died."

  
"The library closed?"

  
"I fell asleep," Baekhyun admitted. That tiny, lovely, rectangular grin. Chanyeol could recount so many of memories to that grin. Baekhyun wiggled his phone, the screen blank and unresponsive, then tossed the textbook on his desk and collapsed backward into bed. The tips of his tangled hair brushed the opposite wall. Chanyeol took a deep breath and tried to imagine what Kyungsoo would do in this situation. No, nevermind, he would absolutely give in to the desire to punch his roommate in the face.

  
"Seriously?" Chanyeol asked. He heard his own voice as if it came from someone else - rough from sleep, strained from stress. "Holy fucking shit. You disappeared. We went looking for you, we looked all night and we couldn't find you. You were sleeping in the library the whole time?"

  
Baekhyun propped himself onto one elbow. "You looked for me?"

  
"You didn't answer your phone."

  
"Aw. I'm sorry. I would have plugged it in but I left without my charger. I honestly didn't think you'd worry. Who's 'we'?"

  
Chanyeol yawned. The relief-turned-adrenaline turned again, into remembered exhaustion. "Kyungsoo and me."

  
"Kyungsoo _does_ care!"

  
Against all of his better judgment, Chanyeol laughed. Baekhyun spread himself out like a model, flashing bright teeth and smoothing a hand down his own chest like he was hot shit or something. God, he'd missed this insufferable brat. "Okay," Chanyeol said, "this is pretty funny. We thought you were dead."

  
"I'm gone ten hours and you write me off as a goner? Offended."

  
"Fifteen hours."

  
Baekhyun's smile fell. "What? What time is it?"

  
"Like 9:30, you were gone all night - "

  
"FUCK me," Baekhyun said, steamrolling the complaint. He jumped off the bed and started stripping. In his haste, both arms got stuck in the sleeves simultaneously and he tripped over a loose pant leg. Baekhyun landed flat on his ass and screamed. "I HAVE HALF AN HOUR UNTIL THE EXAM."

  
Muffled by the fabric, Baekhyun twisted and struggled desperately. He bucked like a lobster in a pot. Chanyeol giggled. A little hysterically. He reached for his phone and started Snapchatting the pathetic attempts at freedom.

  
"Help me," Baekhyun mumbled. Petulantly.

  
"Nooooo. Suffer."

  
The shirt ruffled. One elbow fluttered out to scratch along Baekhyun's hip, at the tip of his bright yellow boxers. "You've been hanging out with Kyungsoo too much."

  
Offended, Chanyeol tossed his phone and blankets to the side. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and jabbed Baekhyun with one toe. "Nuh-uh. Would he have saved you a serving of bibimbap?"

  
"I love you," Baekhyun moaned, and Chanyeol smirked. That's what he thought.

 

* * *

 

 

_150906, BETA ALPHA PHETA HOUSE_

  
Chanyeol met Kyungsoo the first night of rush week freshman year, during one of the open parties on Greek row. He couldn't recall the particular house, or what he was drinking, or what he was wearing. But ask him to sketch the details in Kyungsoo's button down and he could do it effortlessly.

  
Everything could be blamed on Jongdae, really.

  
Back before he was a fellow Chi Omega pledge brother, he was Baekhyun's slick new roommate. Baekhyun often brought him to lunch. The three of them ( _#BeagleLine_ as their affectionate group chat name) crammed into a tiny table in the student union and had yogurt-eating contests.

  
When Jongdae heard about a party specifically for the performance track in the college of music, he extended an invitation to Chanyeol by virtue of his musicality. "I'm on the production track," Chanyeol argued, "I'm gonna meet half the people in your program eventually anyway."

  
Baekhyun flicked a grape. It bounced off of Chanyeol's nose.

  
"Sure," Jongdae said, smiling, "let's just go."

  
Four days later - a claustrophobic living room. A very sketchy makeshift bar on the tiny, stainless steel counter. Instead of a dance floor, there seemed to be a group noraebang session starting in the living room. Baekhyun shouted something about wrestling and a girl from Alpha Omega Alpha. He squeezed Chanyeol's waist once and disappeared toward the balcony.

  
Chanyeol dodged the growing mass of people clustered around the TV - blasting _What Does the Fox Say_ at full volume - and ducked into the kitchen. A long line of hard liquor preceded the classic red cups.

  
Jongdae himself lounged against the counter, stirring what looked like rum and coke. He had his arm tight around some kid Chanyeol had never seen before - short, big eyes, pouty lips. He wore a black button down. Chanyeol's eyes caught on the nervous flex of his hands.

  
Jongdae's eyes were bright but focused. "Chanyeol! You came! Do you want a drink? This is a time to celebrate, I actually convinced Kyungsoo to come to a _party_!"

  
Probably drunker than he intended to be, Jongdae leaned forward so that his fluffy hair tickled Chanyeol's ear. He tried to whisper, and failed, "He thinks this is exclusively Chi Omega. I'm pretty sure this isn't even their house."

  
He giggled and accidentally knocked the shorter guy forward so that he nearly fell into Chanyeol. Catching himself with one hand on the counter, Kyungsoo glared at Jongdae. The temperature in the kitchen cranked up a few notches. Chanyeol shifted his weight away.

  
Kyungsoo obligingly poured a few choice liquids into a cup. Without breaking eye contact with Jongdae, Kyungsoo gulped several deep mouthfuls. His throat bobbed. The corners of his mouth ticked up when he set down the empty cup. "Happy?"

  
Of course Jongdae was pleased. He burst into obnoxious applause. In the other room, the karaoke stars switched to a rendition of Barbie Girl. Chanyeol couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity - frat parties were the best. Fuck, college was the best.

  
"Oh," Jongdae said, as if noticing his uncharacteristic silence, "ah, sorry, have you met Kyungsoo?"

  
"No, I - "

  
"This is Baekhyun's best friend. Since birth," Jongdae said, patting Chanyeol's chest with one hand. The expression that crossed Kyungsoo's face was hard to decipher - confusion? Disgust? His eyebrows twitched even lower over his large, bright eyes.

  
The butterfly effect: that tiny movement had Chanyeol hook, line, and sinker. He secretly prided himself on the ability to read people - their body language, tone of voice, facial expressions. Once, he'd persuaded a teacher to bump his final grade from a solid C to an A+ with only twenty minutes of puppy dog eyes and an extra five-page essay. Junmyeon later called it charisma. Charisma and lots of teeth. Chanyeol liked to think of it as sensitivity.

  
But Kyungsoo's reactions were erratic; his only constant remained his unpredictability. Chanyeol planted himself at Kyungsoo's side and started talking. He sipped jungle juice and bobbed his head to the music. They leaned against the counter and watched a near constant stream of tipsy undergrads file in and out of the kitchen. A junior by the name of Jackson (Gamma Omega Theta) eventually joined them and swirled concoction after concoction. He looked a bit stoned.

  
The music blended together after the third classic rock song.

  
"...it's funny that we're still meeting new people in our program. I know it's only the third week of classes but this school is so much bigger than I thought - " Chanyeol said.

  
"...and have you heard Adele's newest album? She broke records in the first week, it's incredible - " Chanyeol said.

  
"...but Baekhyun screamed and threw the box straight in the air, so the Pepero exploded all over Jongdae and woke him up. He was _so fucking pissed_ \- " Chanyeol said.

  
"You talk a lot," Kyungsoo interrupted. He sipped his third drink. The minutes had slipped into an hour at least. Someone in the living room demanded body shots at full volume, and Chanyeol fervently hoped it wasn't Baekhyun.

  
"Sorry," Chanyeol said. Kyungsoo's dark eyes followed the movement of his throat as he finished off his beer. The floor moved pleasantly beneath his shoes. Warmth gathered under each exposed strip of skin. Probably, he should stop. "Tell me about you, then."

  
"Well," Kyungsoo said, "I don't like parties."

  
He set down an empty cup and grabbed Chanyeol's sleeve. Ducking his head to maneuver through the boisterous crowd, Kyungsoo led them straight out the back door and onto an empty balcony. Although humidity still clung to the heavy summer air, it was cooler outside than in the kitchen. The sky felt dark and infinite. Greek row unfurled below them. On the far sidewalk, a group of girls stopped under a streetlight to take selfies. Their muted laughter floated up, up, up...

  
Kyungsoo leaned over the railing. Now that they stood isolated, Chanyeol could brush their elbows together and surreptitiously get a better look.

  
Kyungsoo was tiny. Even smaller than Baekhyun. Every press of his clothing looked immaculate - either he tried too hard or felt less composed than he looked. His expression stayed carefully blank. Chanyeol wanted to force a genuine reaction.

  
"Much better," Kyungsoo said quietly. He tilted his head back so that the expansive skin of his neck was completely exposed. Chanyeol's stomach flipped.

  
That was the first time he thought he might be in trouble.

  
The second time, a week later, he sat on the green couch at Chi Omega and watched the last fellow pledge enter: tiny, tanned Do Kyungsoo. Their eyes met for a flash, dark on dark. Gravity reversed.

 

* * *

 

  
_160915_

  
junmyeon (dear mr. president)  
_Big/Lil meeting Wednesday @ 9_  
_attendance mandatory_

  
minnie  
_even if we already have a little?_

  
junmyeon (dear mr. president)  
_Sorry, my message must not have gone through. Let me resend it._  
_Big/Lil meeting Wednesday @ 9_  
_attendance mandatory_

  
baekhyun  
_LMAOOOO_  
_STRAIGHT SAVAGE_

minnie  
_shut up byun brat  
_

 

* * *

 

  
_160917, THIRD FLOOR_

  
Click. Scroll. Click click. Scroll.

  
Junmyeon perused the Google doc one final time. The final votes were in. Each full member of Chi Omega voted for which pledge (if any) they wanted as their "little" brother, and each pledging freshman voted for which member they wanted as their "big" brother.

  
The pledge votes had gone something like this:

  
SEHUN  
1\. Chanyeol  
2\. Luhan  
3\. Baekhyun ha ha jk, Junmyeon

  
ZITAO  
1\. Yixing  
2\. Yixing  
3\. Yixing

  
JONGIN  
1\. Kyungsoo  
2\. Minseok  
3\. Jongdae I guess

  
Family ties weren't required, but they were a big deal. Bigs and littles had a set number of production assignments to complete together before their respective graduations - and they usually yielded stunning results. Jinki was his own mentor, many years ago. Albeit a bit insane, he was a vocal genius and taught Junmyeon music they never would've seen in class. Or anywhere in public. Really. His playlists started and ended with sex jams.

  
Lost in recollection, Junmyeon almost missed the muffled thump downstairs and the preceding screech. After that, nothing. A crow squawked outside the closed window. Too quiet. 8:58 PM. It was time to go downstairs and face the masses anyway.

  
He gathered three green envelopes in his arms. Shoving his phone into his jeans pocket, Junmyeon couldn't stave off the tiny, delighted smile. There was a certain spring in his steps as he walked downstairs. It might be silly, but he relished in the miniscule, fun presidential duties. Like this. Only Luhan had an inkling of tonight's results - he snuck a peek earlier while Junmyeon lathered and rinsed, that bilge rat - but everyone else would be surprised.

  
_Pleasantly_ surprised, hopefully. He did his best to arrange each family based on requests.

  
Junmyeon didn't make it three steps into the living room before Baekhyun leapt from the arm of the couch and nearly crashed into the grand piano. He straightened up and smoothed down a pastel pink shirt. "THE EAGLE HAS LANDED, I REPEAT, THE EAGLE HAS LANDED."

  
"Thanks," Junmyeon said drily.

  
The rest of the frat lounged in various positions throughout the room. Kyungsoo and Jongdae sat at the table splitting a tub of matcha ice cream. Junmyeon joined them, sat in the head chair, and spread the envelopes out on the table. One labeled _Zitao_ , one _Sehun_ , one _Jongin_.

  
The aforementioned pledges were clustered together near the kitchen. Jongin took a seat first, next to Kyungsoo, in a familiar violet button down that Junmyeon recognized from Chuseoks past. His little brother had dressed up to formally meet his big.

  
Junmyeon had to steady his hands under an unexpected swell of fondness. They had never been particularly close, the Kim brothers, but they were always respectful toward one another. In these bite-sized choices - the purple button down, the lack of sleep Tuesday night to help Sehun study, the fake smile in every posed photograph - Junmyeon saw so much of himself. Better than himself, most times.

  
If only he could choose Jongin as a little himself. He'd never had the time for one, never particularly wanted one. But it wouldn't be fair now; Junmyeon graduated next semester. They had a lifetime as blood anyway. That bond, he liked to think, was a bit more important.

  
When everyone was seated, Junmyeon cleared his throat. "Good evening, guys. Welcome to the big/little reveal of 2016."

  
Scattered applause. Yixing whooped.

  
"Before we get started, I'd like to go over what being a big or little means. Many of you are already part of family lines, and you know how seriously we take them here at Chi Omega. Pledges, to have a 'big' is to have a hyung who is committed to your individual success - someone who will guide you in all aspects of your life during your time in this frat. They will spend time with you, assist you, inspire you. The goal is to facilitate deep, meaningful relationships between classes while supporting our younger brothers in their general adjustment from secondary school to uni, to Seoul, to Chi Omega. Each 'family' is required to collaborate on three musical productions. Original song or dance is acceptable."

  
The longer he spoke, the more the freshmen squirmed.

  
Luckily, they wouldn't dare interrupt him. Too young and naive to disregard Junmyeon just yet.

  
Luhan didn't have the same reservation. His head thunked on the table and he emitted a loud, obnoxious snore. A fluff of his angelic hair rested perfectly over one eye. A model without even trying. Sometimes, Junmyeon had to really resist decking his vice president in the face.

  
A few scattered titters. Like the boys were afraid to laugh. Good. He still had control. He only needed it for a little while longer. Junmyeon cleared his throat. "So," he placed both hands on the table. "We're going to play a little game."

  
Tao physically brightened. His perpetually-drooping eyes stretched and exchanged a flashing smile with Sehun. Their quiet enthusiasm was infectious.

  
Junmyeon tossed the envelopes to their respective owners. Sehun's nearly landed in the half-empty tub of ice cream. He cradled it to his chest like a cheque.

  
"Without the aid of any brothers," he raised his voice over the loud rips of paper, "you must locate your big. When you think you know, please stand behind him and crack one of your confetti eggs over his head."

  
Three green packages rolled out of Jongin's envelope. They looped around. One nearly rolled off the table, but Minseok's quick hand snatched and returned it. The other two pledges shook out similar shapes. A dollar store steal: painted eggshells with a blast of rainbow confetti inside. Tiny stars, flowers, airplanes, and 'HAPPY' written in loopy English letters of every color shuffled together.

  
Sehun barely looked at the eggs. He unfolded his slip of paper and started reading.

  
"Out loud," Junmyeon said.

  
"Blood type A, mini cars, djembe. School of Rock, white kitten, beatbox. Your big once chipped a tooth eating chicken."

  
Sehun paused. He stared at the paper. A little pink tongue slipped out as he licked his lips - a nervous habit. The table fell into a hush. Kyungsoo's eyebrow ticked upwards, and Junmyeon watched him look away to hide a smirk.

  
"Well?" Jongdae leaned forward. "Who do you think it is?"

  
Everyone fell into a squabbling mess. A spoon clattered on the table. Minseok leaned over to Luhan and muttered something like _school of rock is a cock shitting_ -

  
Junmyeon sliced a finger across his own throat. "Don't. Help. Him."

  
Like a deer in the headlights, Sehun froze. He started mumbling out loud, probably out of a nauseating mix of nerves and excitement and dumbfounded confusion. "Kyungsoo hyung can beatbox," he started, "but he doesn't like cars? School of Rock? Jongdae? Chanyeol, you play the drums... I don't know anyone's blood type. This is really hard."

  
"Go with your gut," Jongin patted him on the back. "Don't think too hard."

  
As usual, Jongin's voice had a physical effect on his best friend. Sehun straightened. His face smoothed into a flat, expressionless plain. Impenetrable. They exchanged a fleeting glance that held a hundred words. Watching them interact was like walking ass-first into a harp while they played orchestras with one finger. Magic.

  
Sehun stood from his chair. He toyed with a confetti egg.

  
With no hesitation, he reached over and smacked the egg onto Jongdae's head. A bony crunch preceded the tsunami of sparkles into his curls, catching on his cheeks and spilling over both shoulders. Chanyeol burst out laughing at Jongdae's indignant, " _Whyyyyy_? It's not me, I've never chipped a tooth!"

  
Sehun bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Sorry," he said, and ducked his head to reappraise the clues.

  
Maybe this game would be more difficult than Junmyeon intended. All the better. The pledges should get to know their potential brothers well. While the giggles faded, Baekhyun pulled his phone out. Later, they would see a million Snapchats of pouting Jongdae and his glitter-fied face.

  
Sehun walked around the table. Like a slowed-down version of duck-duck-goose, they waited to be chosen. His eyes flicked to Chanyeol. "Aren't you allergic to cats?"

  
The strenuous effort of stifling explosive laughter took its toll. Chanyeol's cheeks were flushed pink, an unusual sight on his fair skin, and twist of his lips looked a mix between amused and angry. Absolutely the worst poker face in the whole fraternity. "I don't know," he said.

  
Sehun's eyes lit up. He smacked the egg onto Chanyeol's head with more force than necessary. It cracked and gushed all over. Chanyeol's gigantic laugh caught some of the stars in his mouth, and he spluttered comically while Sehun hugged him from behind, welcoming the inevitable confetti transfer. Everyone began a round of applause.

  
This continued for the other two pledges. Tao barely even read the list of clues before diving for Yixing. Jongin worried his lip between his teeth. He didn't want to be wrong. Upon careful deliberation of the clues _English pronunciation_ and _your big is lowkey an anime freak_ , he stepped around his chair.

  
Crunch. Right between Kyungsoo's low brows.

  
Amid whoops and over-the-top clapping, Junmyeon leaned back in his seat. He tried very hard to arrange each pair based on the correct fit. Logically, he knew that, and he trusted in his own judgment, but it still stirred a primal satisfaction to watch the fruition of his labor. Especially when his own little brother's eye-smile could rival the sun.

  
Jongin immediately started wiping glitter from Kyungsoo's cheeks, spewing incomprehensible apologies and chuckles. They bent together, one sitting and one standing, into a singular shape. Across the table, Tao refused to let go of his new big's hand.

  
Grinning, Junmyeon raised his voice over the pandemonium. "Alright, cake's in the kitchen. Help yourselves."

  
Later, after dessert and its excitement faded, they laid scattered around the living room in various states of disarray. Empty plates littered the table. Minseok, Tao, and Yixing sat around a cell phone broadcast of some Mandarin band. Baekhyun, Chanyeol, and Sehun disappeared downstairs twenty minutes ago. No one dared question them. Personally, he didn't want to know.

  
Now Junmyeon sat perched on the armchair, required reading on his lap and a mug of tea in one hand. A crisp autumn breeze crept through the back windows. Curtains ruffled. Luhan slept on the rug to his right, and Kyungsoo and Jongin sat piled atop each other on the opposite couch.

  
"I have one question," Kyungsoo said, allowing Jongin's head to rest on his shoulder, "how did you get this random information about us? We didn't fill out any paperwork for this."

  
Junmyeon smiled and sipped languidly at his tea. What an excellent question. It was comical Kyungsoo actually expected an answer. That was for the president of Chi Omega to know, and for Luhan to never find out.

 

* * *

 

  
  
_160920_

  
unicorn yixing  
_who's in the basement right now_  
_WHO IS IT_

  
baekhyun  
_why?_

  
unicorn yixing  
_i'm on the THIRD FLOOR and i can smell you_

  
baekhyun  
_SORRRYYYYYYY HAHAHAHHA_

  
unicorn yixing  
_sharing is caring :-(_

  
lu-ge  
_tfti bitch_

  
baekhyun  
_whoever gets down here first gets first hit_  
_BRING UR GUITARS_

  
junmyeon (dear mr. president)  
_I'm on the first floor I don't smell anything... ?_

  
baekhyun  
_some ppl are more attuned to rule breaking than others hyung <3_

 

 

* * *

 

  
_160924, STUDENT UNION_

  
Sehun tapped one finger against his keyboard. Tap. Tap. Tap. On the fourth tap he accidentally hit the enter key and fucked up the spacing of his essay. Nice. He backspaced. He cranked up the volume of Jay Park's SEX TRIP in his headphones.

  
The student union was crowded for a Thursday afternoon. Sehun was lucky to be perched in his spot - a throne, practically! - in the comfortable couch on the third floor. Every outlet, every inch of possible space beside him was taken. The girl to his left kept bumping him with a bony elbow. But by overlooking the grand staircase, the six-door entrance, and the sprawling humanities buildings beyond that, he could amuse himself with both mundane schoolwork and people-watching. And there sure were people to watch today...

  
A couple with matching neon green shoes felt it appropriate to commandeer a section of the sidewalk for their personal use. They stretched every muscle in their legs painstakingly slow. Students were forced to press against one another on the tiny cement space to avoid them. At one point, the girl twisted her leg up so high that it accidentally brushed against a passing man's hat. He recoiled, she giggled.

  
Don't get distracted, Sehun reminded himself. Essay. Due next week. Do it now.

  
He affixed his attention on the screen. Tap. Tap. Tap...

  
Tap. Something hit his headphones.

  
"Hey," Sehun snapped. He slipped the headphones off to confront the wayward elbow girl. "What - "

  
Kyungsoo smiled. "Hey."

  
"Oh. Hi, hyung. What's up?"

  
Kyungsoo adjusted his round spectacles. In a striped cardigan and jeans, he could've passed for a hot graduate TA. He stood in a tiny pocket of empty carpet space and held two Chinese textbooks. Several studying huddles glanced away from their books and back. Quickly, discreetly. But Kyungsoo stared directly at Sehun.

  
"I was wondering," Kyungsoo said, "if you could show me Gangnam Style?"

  
Sehun paused. "What?"

  
"Gangnam Style by Psy?"

  
Suddenly he understood what Kyungsoo asked. The attached list of songs that the pledges were supposed to practice - song or dance - and be ready to perform at any time. The room suddenly seemed to shrink even further in size. Sehun flashed on a horrific image of himself singing at full volume, off-key and off-pitch, the worst Korean pop song of the last decade.

  
"No," he said, "no, you're not serious."

  
Kyungsoo quirked one eyebrow. The corners of his plush lips tugged up. "I am."

  
This couldn't be happening. Sehun desperately willed his essay-fried brain to reboot.

  
Last week, Sehun and Chanyeol were idly lounging downstairs and exchanging memes when Kyungsoo walked by on his way to the kitchen. It was late, Sehun's eyes drooped, and he was already dreading the walk back to his dorm. But Chanyeol took one look at Kyungsoo and scrambled forward on the couch, diving behind Sehun and shoving his face under a pillow. Lankly legs stuck out at odd angles. Really subtle.

  
"What's your problem?"

  
A muffled reply: "He's coming for me."

  
Sehun snorted. He scrolled past another clickbait John Cena video. "Kyungsoo hyung is really cute. You're twice his size. What are you scared of?"

  
To his utter shock, Chanyeol shoved his head above the pillow to gawk with comically huge eyes. A fluff of silver hair stuck straight up and plastered itself against the arm of the couch. "Don't say that. He'll hear you," he said, retreating into the bottomless cushions. "Ah. You have a lot to learn."

  
Sehun remembered the dark, terrified expression on his big's face. He thought of the distance between the couch and the kitchen, the probability that Kyungsoo heard his comment, and the likelihood that this was not a drill. He needed to recall the thirty-second cheat sheet dance that he, Jongin, and Tao composed for these situations. In the middle of the student union. On a busy afternoon.

  
"How many points do I lose if I don't?" he asked weakly.

  
"Fifty."

  
Fuck. Okay. The sooner he did it, the sooner it was over.

  
Closing his laptop, Sehun shifted so that his computer could take his place on the seat. Elbow Girl glared. Kyungsoo obligingly shuffled backward, flashing a little smile in apology to a study group that he almost bumped into. Sehun shook out his shoulders. He had just enough carpet space. Several people glanced away from their books to look him up and down.

  
That's right. At least he was fucking hot.

  
"Hit it," Sehun said.

  
Kyungsoo smirked. He tapped his phone once and the unmistakable opening notes of Gangnam Style blasted forward, upward, all around until the noise crashed and filled the room.

  
Sehun closed his eyes. Ignored the mutterings sweeping around the crowd. Focused on the beat. This was what he loved, anyway. It better be worth it.

  
He lost himself.

 

* * *

 

  
  
_160311, GREEK SPRING MIXER_

  
Sometime in the spring of the previous semester, Baekhyun got it into his head that Minseok was some sort of supernatural creature impervious to the cold.

  
It started as a dumb prank during a party. Jongdae lolled against his shoulder. Occasionally he turned his chin to laugh into Baekhyun's collarbones. Too close. One of them smelled like shampoo - something citrus and too sweet - or maybe that was the alcohol. Probably the alcohol. Baekhyun had to recollect his thoughts from around the vein in Jongdae's neck that pulsed when he laughed.

  
"If you think about it," Baekhyun said, shifting away, "he never wears a jacket. Ever."

  
"That's ridiculous," Jongdae said.

  
"I watched him walk outside during the blizzard in one sweater. No gloves. No gloves, Jongdae, can you imagine?"

  
"That's ridiculous," Jongdae repeated.

  
Deep in Baekhyun's addled brain, he knew this was a fruitless quarrel. But last month Baekhyun borrowed underwear from Yixing and noticed water damage in Minseok's wall. A tiny crack in the stucco facing the front of the house. If the wind cooperated, it could whip a mean draft directly into his bedside. The sight had triggered something; a radar, or a tripwire, that he didn't know he possessed. No one ever gave Baekhyun credit for noticing. But he did. Like that time Chanyeol accidentally opened his big fat mouth and asked _who is the guy who's name is on the plaque next to Junmyeon hyung's, Yifan something?_ at the dinner table and the four oldest members of the frat had equal, even poker faces.

  
Baekhyun tried to stop noticing that.

  
But this - he was just drunk enough to try anyway.

  
He leaned closer to Jongdae, who definitely smelled like citrus shampoo, and whispered, "Watch."

  
Staggering across the living room, Baekhyun avoided crashing into three separate clumps of sorority girls and a keg stand in the corner. The music swelled the closer he stepped to the speakers outside the kitchen. Luckily, the area was clear; no Junmyeon hovering over the drinks to ask nosy questions and shove him away with one shot and a glass of water. He fumbled with the fridge. He squinted at the interior lights. Fuck, his eyes already ached. Tomorrow would be fun.

  
Baekhyun reached in and grabbed a handful of ice from the machine. It scalded his palm. A slice of sobriety in the otherwise happy fuzz of his thoughts - not unwelcome.

  
"Do I even want to know what you're doing?" Chanyeol stepped close behind him, eyes stuck on the tiny, glittering mountain of ice. His shirt hung low enough to accentuate both jutting collarbones. As usual, he towered above like a flighty mini-sun. Baekhyun blinked and shut the fridge.

  
"Minseok hyung is the abominable snowman," he said. Then he flicked an ice cube at Chanyeol's chest. It bounced off and skittered across the tile.

  
Chanyeol giggled. He said something about jungle juice and Kyungsoo, but Baekhyun wasn't really listening anymore - he turned back to slosh his way towards Jongdae. Katy Perry's greatest hit, California Girls, came up on shuffle at that moment. He hollered an approval at the speakers.

  
Score. Minseok was bent over Jongdae, listening to him gesticulate wildly. Interesting. Jongdae hadn't seemed capable of eloquent speech three minutes ago. But this was, incredibly, a perfect opportunity. Baekhyun slid deftly past a dude he vaguely recognized from Econ and approached Minseok's back. His collar stuck up just enough.

  
Baekhyun reached forward and dumped the entire handful of ice down Minseok's back.

  
Comically, he dove behind Econ guy. Baekhyun tried to camouflage himself into the closest group while surreptitiously eyeing his hyung's reaction...

  
Minseok replied evenly to Jongdae. His hands stayed steady perched on the arm of the couch. Underneath the bill of his hat, he smiled that cute, lopsided smile that made Luhan blush. Baekhyun watched the ice slide and catch over the waistband of Minseok's jeans, then plunk one by one onto the rug. No reaction.

  
He quite literally felt his jaw unhinge. A surge of dizziness swept up his spine. Baekhyun nearly stumbled into the closest cluster of strangers bopping to Katy Perry. Holy fuck. He was right. He knew there was something off about Minseok - there was something so fucking off nothing could be right - holy fuck how would he tell Junmyeon what would happen to Minseok if anyone found out what would happen to Chi Omega -

  
Baekhyun shivered and watched Minseok ruffle Jongdae's hair, then disappear upstairs. The ice laid unnoticed and half-melted on the floor. He shouldered through the pulsing crowd to teeter and fall on top of Jongdae. The comforting smell of citrus did little to drive away a churning cloud of fear.

  
"Whoa, whoa, what's wrong?" Jongdae asked, ever the kind friend. Even with a lapful of squirming limbs, he managed to reach for the back of Baekhyun's neck and stroke the sensitive skin there. Baekhyun's muscles relaxed.

  
"Didn't you see. When Minseok hyung was talking to you. I poured ice down his shirt he didn't even - notice! Didn't do anything! I'm so worried, Dae, what's wrong with him that's so fucked up he's really fucked up physically that can't be alright - "

  
"Baekhyunnie, you're a little drunk. Minseok hyung is fine," Jongdae said. He sounded a little more alert than before. When he ran his fingers up Baekhyun's neck and through his flopping hair, it felt really nice. Someone slammed the back door and called for a round of freshmen shots. It sounded terribly like Luhan. That fucker.

  
Baekhyun hummed along to the next song. Something bubbly pop again. Jongdae's fingers in his hair slowed. "C'mon," he said, "no more shots for you."

  
"It's not me you have to be worried about," Baekhyun said, "I'm telling you, Minseok hyung isn't okay. Someone call the doctor."

  
They climbed off the couch. Baekhyun looped his arm comfortably around Jongdae's waist. He could walk alright - maybe not down the stairs, yeah - but Jongdae's side felt warm and he liked the contact. A safe haven from the frightening events of earlier. He and Jongdae were easily the most attuned to skinship in Chi Omega. Sometimes Chanyeol, too. But out of all the beds Baekhyun clambered into seeking warmth and companionship, Jongdae was the least likely to turn him away. They planned to spend every snow day that semester cuddling under the covers with hot chocolate and anime reruns.

  
Baekhyun hummed all the way down the hallway, down the stairs, and into his and Chanyeol's room. He tripped over a guitar case in the doorway but Jongdae steadied him. They both laughed. Familiar soft carpet, beige walls, the backdrop of his dreams. Panic dissipated. Baekhyun could hardly remember why he'd been freaking out. Yeah, so what if Minseok wasn't human. Everyone still loved him. No one would love him less for being abominable.

  
"Ah," Baekhyun said, involuntarily. He sat on the edge of his bed and caught sight of the blinking clock. 2:13 AM. "That isn't too early. I'm practically respectable."

  
"Better than the New Year's party."

  
"Let's not speak of that," Baekhyun said, pressing a finger to Jongdae's lips. Except that was a bad idea. His lips were nice - smooth. Upturned and cheerful. He dropped his finger.

  
Jongdae didn't seem to notice his minor distraction. They sat side-by-side on the bed, legs swinging in time with the muffled music. Mottled moonlight lent the room a gray glow. Baekhyun honestly didn't feel terrible enough to leave the party completely, but this soft second with Jongdae was nice. He leaned his head on Jongdae's shoulder and replicated their earlier position on the couch, this time with his nose pressed to Jongdae's collarbones.

  
"Did you smoke up with Yixing?" Jongdae asked.

  
"Mmm, no."

  
"You're so tired. It's not like you."

  
"I'm not the Energizer Bunny," Baekhyun said, "except I kind of am. I dunno."

  
He closed his eyes. Jongdae was much quieter than Chanyeol. Mentally, Baekhyun composed a list of all the many reasons he should switch roommates. Namely, Jongdae could appreciate silence every once in a while. Plus, they shared a guilty pleasure in Ariana Grande. Jongdae spent too much time working on his Instagram aesthetic and making friends with every single humdrum in the music department. But that was okay. He smelled like citrus. Baekhyun loved citrus.

  
That drink. From the frat two doors down, the one with the baby-faced Chinese transfer student. Minghao? Baekhyun chugged something from him. It probably had fucking tequila in it, that's that, no wonder he was so drowsy. It felt like sleep tugged each eyelash individually.

  
"Before I fall asleep, promise you'll help me help Minseok hyung," he said, collapsing backwards so that his hair just barely skimmed the wall. His feet still dangled off the edge of the bed. Lucky he never had to worry about Chanyeol bringing someone home - ouch, maybe he shouldn't touch that landmine -

  
"'Course, Baekhyunnie. You're not allowed to cause trouble without me," Jongdae smiled. He leaned back on both arms. He looked down at Baekhyun. In the gray light, his eyes looked black as ink. Soft footsteps led upstairs, then faded.

  
His eyes slid closed. Into the warm dark. "Thanks, best friend, love you."

  
It sounded like Jongdae laughed. It might have been the music, still light and barely discernible from the party. Baekhyun spun into the unknown. His second-to-last thought was, fervently, I better not puke tomorrow morning, fuck tequila fucking -

  
His very last thought was, citrus.

  
Baekhyun woke up conspicuously alone. Shoes, gone. Jeans, check. Phone, check. Gray light at the window and Chanyeol's empty bed. It hurt to crack open his eyes, but Baekhyun stared at the undisturbed blankets across the room. Everything felt fuzzy and unreal. Party. Ice. Jongdae. What happened.

  
Sitting up didn't make him nauseated. Leaning forward to grab his phone did. Baekhyun checked the time and tried very hard not to make some sort of terrible, grouchy whine. Not even noon. There was no glass of water or ibuprofen on his desk, so Junmyeon wasn't awake yet. Which meant Luhan wasn't awake. Which meant Minseok probably wasn't awake -

  
The ice. Jongdae. The ice, down Minseok's shirt, and the revelation that there was something terribly wrong - it came in flashes and spurts. A drip-drop of memory. Baekhyun climbed out of bed and struggled to pull on fresh pants and a new shirt. He shook his hair back and spared only thirty seconds to give his teeth a once over with a spare toothbrush.

  
He needed to think quickly. He needed to be stealthy and efficient - like Kyungsoo helping both Chanyeol and Baekhyun with their respective pranks and lying about it. Luckily Baekhyun figured him out ages ago, thanks to 57 boxes of Nerd's candy and Chanyeol's utter lack of creativity. Anyway. What Would Kyungsoo Do?

  
Step one: Scope out the battlefield.

  
Baekhyun crept to the top of the staircase and peeped out. From this vantage point he spotted seventeen abandoned red cups, one upturned bottle of Svedka that he sincerely hoped was empty, and remnants of a fried chicken box. Excellent.

  
The first floor was dead silent. He heard every creak of the floorboards when he walked. Baekhyun turned and froze - Minseok, one leg draped off the couch, eyes closed and covered in pillows. Sleeping beauty.

  
_Why the fuck are you on the couch?_ Baekhyun wanted to ask. He gesticulated wildly to Minseok's bed upstairs, but of course he didn't notice. He'd probably fallen asleep there and been too heavy for Luhan to carry. What a lightweight.

  
Wait. They were the only two people on the first floor.

  
Step two: Scheme.

  
Baekhyun tip-toed to the kitchen. He filled a large bowl with ice - chip by chip, clink by clink, placing cubes against his forehead for the balm. A small mountain of crystal. An icy weapon. He remembered enough from last night. He remembered the ridiculousness of his endeavors, yes, but he also remembered his determination and vowed not to let it die. This was a just and honorable cause.

  
He fumbled with the heavy bowl and brought it into the living room. The pitiful, decrepit couch would suffer alongside Minseok.

  
As quiet as he'd ever been - honestly, it must've set a record - Baekhyun walked up to Minseok. Checked his breathing. He stuck his nose right next to Minseok's ear just to see if he'd wake up. Nope.  
He dumped the bowl of ice straight onto Minseok's head and chest.

  
The sound was enormous. An avalanche cascaded downwards, flattening Minseok's hair and completely obscuring his face with ice. Several clumps slid off his chest and onto the cushions or the floor with loud glass-like clinks. Baekhyun dropped the bowl and dove behind the couch. He peeked out and braced himself for the incoming shouts.

  
Except...

  
Minseok didn't even stir. The upper half of his body was wrecked by fast-melting ice. His breathing stayed even and slow. Impossibly relaxed.

  
That cold fear from last night coagulated in Baekhyun's chest. The standard hangover nausea swirled like a gathering cloud in his stomach, and he crawled on hands and knees out from his hiding spot. This was so wrong. Holy fuck. What if Minseok hyung had alcohol poisoning? No one else had checked on him yet. Baekhyun wasn't equipped to deal with this. What if he was a vampire and his core temperature was actually always freezing?

  
Disturbed, Baekhyun scooted forward to touch one of the ice cubes and reassure himself this was reality.

  
Minseok slowly opened his eyes and looked straight at Baekhyun. In a very calm, quiet voice, he said, "No one will ever believe you."

  
Baekhyun screamed himself to hell and back.

 

* * *

 

  
_161003_

  
junmyeon (dear mr. president)  
_Details for the charity showcase: open event 8am-2pm on Saturday. We're registered for a bake sale and attendance is mandatory. EVERYONE must contribute something. Pledges, it's gotta be homemade. Idc what the rest of you bring just make sure it's edible._  
_edit: Luhan is not allowed to bring cake_

  
lu-ge  
_how can I show up without my... cakes_

  
unicorn yixing  
_lmao_

  
taozi  
_so pledges can buy something homemade?_

  
junmyeon (dear mr. president)  
_No_  
_Let me rephrase: pledges have to actually bake something themselves and proof must be provided._

  
taozi  
_oh... ok_

 _  
_ jongin  
_how do you even buy something homemade_ _  
_

  
taozi  
_:(  
_

 

 

* * *

 

 

_161003, CAFE_

  
"Chocolate chip cappuccino muffins?"

  
"And authentic French macaroons."

  
"...And authentic French macaroons. Right. Are you sure you don't want to bring, like, sugar cookies?"

  
"These aren't my ideas," Tao said, "trust me. Jongin insisted on both."

  
Yixing leaned back and tapped his pen against his lips. Tap, tap, tap. "Okay," he said gently, "that's very ambitious, but if Jongin can do it -"

  
"He can. He almost went to culinary school."

  
The steam from Yixing's tea momentarily fogged his glasses. A vicious bout of staccato rain hit the window. Tao curled his toes in his boots. Eventually, he and Yixing would have to leave Java Jive Jr. and make a break for the house. His hair likely wouldn't survive the trip.

  
"All three of you are required to bring baked goods. Not just Jongin," Yixing said. His glasses slid down his nose half an inch, and he used it to look over the rim at Tao like a disapproving ahjumma. But no one resisted Tao's puppy dog eyes - least of all his own big.

  
"He's just going to oversee. We'll all be working," Tao tacked a sweet smile to the end of his promise. He rubbed his palm against his cup and pressed hard enough to feel the heat radiate up his wrist. Like light in his veins. Shit, he was so cold. Too weak to handle early winter in Seoul.

  
"Hmm," Yixing said.

  
"What are you bringing?"

  
"Pionono."

  
"Oh?" Tao leaned forward eagerly. A tuft of hair fell in his eyes. "You can bake?"

  
"From H Mart," Yixing elaborated. He mimicked Tao's sweet smile. The corners of his eyes turned up.

  
Tao collapsed back into his seat. He slumped. He pouted. He envisioned himself in the kitchen, wrangled into an apron and whipping flour while Jongin screeched over his shoulder. The mess.

  
"Not. Fair. My cuticles better be worth this bake sale."

  
"It's a fundraiser for the local hospital," Yixing reminded him cheerfully.

  
Tao sighed.

 

* * *

 

 

_161006, FRONT LAWN_

  
At the crack of dawn on Saturday morning, they set up a booth on the sidewalk in front of the house. The sun just barely peeked over the horizon and washed everything in a faint gray-blue glow. Greek row swarmed with caffeinated students desperately constructing lemonade stands, jewelry displays, burger joints, and even kissing booths.

  
This distressed Chanyeol.

  
"Kissing booths? That happens in real life?"

  
"Yes," Luhan said, "and it makes a ton of money."

  
"Why aren't we doing it?"

  
Luhan set down a plate of cupcakes with chocolate frosted eighth notes. He adjusted his snapback and exchanged a hallowed look with Junmyeon, who crossed his arms and turned to supervise Tao's bowl of fluffy white somethings. Their pinched faces spoke of trials unimaginable. "Rule 14 of the handbook, if you read it, states 'No Kissing Booths Unless To Avert Total Bankruptcy.' We're doing fine on funds this year, somehow. So we don't need it."

  
Chanyeol absorbed this. He lined his cheesecake popsin a neat row. He stood behind the table and waited until both Junmyeon and Luhan were distracted by the director of Greek life, Park something, who stopped to check their progress. Then he discreetly slipped back into the house for a second table.

  
He almost crashed into Jongdae carrying out a platter of brownies. They paused over the threshold of the door.

  
"Special mix?" Chanyeol asked.

  
"I wish."

  
"Want to do me a favor, Dae?"

  
"Sure. Wait, what is it?"

  
The platter of brownies separated them. Chanyeol leaned closer. "Remember when we bet Baekhyun we could break every single rule in the handbook without actually reading it?"

  
"Aw, fuck."

  
"Two words: Illegal kissing booth."

  
Jongdae groaned. "That's three words, shitfucker."

  
"I'll take a double shift," Chanyeol urged, "I'll do 8 to 12, you can do 12 to 2."

  
"Fine," he said, and shoved a stolen brownie into his mouth. He rearranged the remaining brownies to hide the empty spot. Jongdae's cheeks puffed out as he chewed and shook his head. He took the porch steps slowly. "I huuth yuh Chnyoh."

  
"Not my fault you're competitive," he said in a sing-song voice and catapulted into the house. Kyungsoo was the only one left in the kitchen, applying finishing touches to his three-layer cakes. Each featured an R &B album cover on top, printed directly onto frosting with edible ink. Beyonce's newest hit Lemonade, Zion T.'s classic Red Light, and Kyungsoo's personal favorite, Mind of Mine by Zayn. His hand jerked back, startled, when Chanyeol careened through the door.

  
Wide dark eyes. A fluff of hair sticking straight up in the back. Soft blue sweater. Chanyeol was never ready for Kyungsoo in the mornings.

  
He brushed past to grab the folding table leaning against the far counter. "Morning," he said.

  
"Good morning," Kyungsoo said. His attention refocused on the strategically placed raspberries surrounding Zayn's angelic little face. Chanyeol grabbed the extra table without any questioning. He hefted it outside and scribbled a quick 'Kissing Booth 500 won' sign out of scrap paper and Baekhyun's pen. He stood proudly next to the bake sale. Solid.

  
Amongst the bustle, no one paid much attention to his extra table. Junmyeon preemptively sweated while Jongin frowned and started to rearrange the left half of the table to place his macarons in front. Sometime in the past ten minutes, an inexplicable snoring had started beneath the table. A large XO banner hid the slumped carcass from passing potential customers.

  
Minseok fiddled with an iPod until a Red Velvet song blasted from a speaker on the grass. The general mood of the morning lifted. Kyungsoo settled his final cake on the table. They were ready. 7:58 am.

  
It took another whole thirty seconds for Junmyeon to look up and zero in on Chanyeol's table.

  
"What's this?" he asked, walking over. Even though he'd been visibly strained only seconds before, he slid a hand down his pristine suit like a proper president. He raised his eyebrows. The lines of his face were maybe too serious for a college student in his 20's. Potentially, he could pass for a 45 year old business owner and father of five.

  
"My independently run kissing booth. For charity."

  
"No."

  
"Junmyeon hyung -"

  
"No."

  
"I'm not showing any letters! I'm in no way affiliated with Chi Omega!" Chanyeol gestured to his makeshift booth. They'd drawn the attention of the rest of the frat, who had simmered down to turn and watch the events unfolding. Jongdae smirked.

  
"You're standing on our lawn, Chanyeol."

  
"Fine," he said, and picked up the table to move it to the sidewalk. The table completely blocked the path. "Now I'm on property that belongs to the city of Seoul."

  
Junmyeon sighed. Chanyeol really didn't want to cause his president extra stress, so he pulled out the big guns: he folded his hands and smiled sweetly. "Ah, this has always been a secret dream of mine, hyung. The reason I became a frat boy in the first place, you could say. It's for a good cause. And Jondgae and I are the only ones participating, I promise."

  
Perfect distraction. Junmyeon turned with big, disappointed eyes to Jongdae, who immediately sniped, "I didn't know it wasn't allowed."

  
Fucking snake. Chanyeol hid his grin behind his hand.

  
Junmyeon rolled his eyes. The first early morning stragglers were on their way past the Beta Theta Sigma ring toss game now. They didn't have any more time to argue. "Pay for that brownie," he told Jongdae. "And wipe the crumbs off your jacket."

  
That was as good as explicit permission. Jongdae fished out a dollar bill. He might have blushed a little while handing it to Junmyeon. Chanyeol ignored this and did a happy dance behind his table. Success.

  
One of his favorite animes in high school featured an episode with a kissing booth. He honestly hadn't lied to Junmyeon when he said it was dream. Such an easy act to romanticize. Visuals of hot seniors smacking him on the lips, opportunities for excellent one-liners like a 50 won bill and a "What can I get for this?" Coy smiles and slipped numbers. Literally the perfect method of meeting single strangers.

  
Naturally his thoughts derailed when he caught sight of Kyungsoo examining Jongin's pastries with warm pride. The breeze caught in his blue sweater and it billowed a little around his waist. Chanyeol looked away quickly. He fixed up an energizing smile and checked his breath. This morning was all about sexy strangers. Hot seniors, hot graduate students, hot professors...

  
Chanyeol dragged a plastic chair over to his fortress. He sat down to wait.

 

  
Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, a group congregated.

  
"There's a facet of our bake sale that I forgot to mention."

  
Jongin looked at Tao. Tao looked at Sehun. Sehun stared straight ahead at Luhan and his obnoxious red snapback. The vice president spread his hands wide and the sleeves of his hoodie nearly covered them completely. Even more innocent-looking than usual. He turned towards the house and all three freshmen followed his gaze.

  
The backyard gate swung open. It creaked. Yixing's dark head poked out. He and Baekhyun appeared, carrying between them a large white plastic rectangle. Three large circles were cut from the middle. Minseok cheerfully followed. He carried a tall stack of pies. Tao squeaked in horror.

  
"The fuck is that?" Sehun asked.

  
"Our most profitable event," Luhan said with relish. "Pie the Freshmen."

  
No matter how loudly Tao whined, the three of them were lined up behind the white rectangle. They sat on stools and shoved their faces through the holes. Sehun's chin scraped the plastic. He squinted in the brimming light. This was undoubtedly, unquestionably, the most humiliating moment of his life.

  
Tao refused to go down quietly.

  
"Yixing," he pleaded, "Yixing, don't do this."

  
They had a short, quiet exchange in Mandarin. Sehun closed his eyed and tried to teleport himself to Canada. Clumps of students ambled by. Some of them bought baked goods, some of them looked Chanyeol up and down. All of them laughed at the freshmen. An excruciating half hour passed.

  
Pledging to Satan's ass would be better than this, Sehun thought idly. At any moment, lightning could smite him down. Or a meteorite. Or a freak car accident. Anything to end this particular suffering.

  
Luhan seemed to be upset about something. He conferred with Kyungsoo over the cash register. Kyungsoo counted several bills and they both frowned. A breeze blew Sehun's hair into his eyes. He sneezed.

  
"Jongin," he said, "Jongin-ah, what are they talking about?"

  
Jongin was slumped completely forward with his chin resting on the plastic. He looked at least 78% asleep. His eyelashes fluttered. "I dunno."

  
"You didn't even look."

  
This time Jongin opened his eyes and squinted over at Luhan and Kyungsoo. They still appeared to be having an intense conversation over the money. Two short-haired girls paused at the booth. Minseok smiled and turned down that fucking Shower Later song to speak to them. Sehun hated that song. He hated just about everything in his life right now.

  
"I dunno," Jongin repeated, "but they're not happy."

  
A terrible, cold feeling snuck up on Sehun.

  
Luhan sidestepped Minseok to grab one of the pie trays from the table. The grass crunched under his long strides. He stopped in front of the 'Pie the Freshmen' exhibit, and toed the line between the sidewalk and the start of the lawn. Firing range.

  
"We think people are too intimidated to be the first ones," Luhan called. The ice in Sehun's stomach spread. "So I'm taking one for the team."

  
"You're taking one for the team?" He called. "Hyung, are you fucking kidding?"

  
Luhan pointed at him. "For that, you get to be first, Oh Sehun."

  
He threw the pie. It arched wonderfully. Sehun closed his eyes and the splatter hit nose-first. A chilled, sticky goo smashed directly into his face. He felt it slide down his forehead and over his chin. For one thundering second, he couldn't breathe.

  
Then he sputtered and spat and moaned. Squeezing his eyes open, he wildly took stock of his face - badly hit, but would recover. Fuck, his hair. The whipped cream would stick for hours. A passing group of guys burst into raucous laughter. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he hated Luhan and Chi Omega and music and everything on the whole goddamn planet right now.

  
"Oh my fucking - " he choked out.

  
Jongin giggled. Sehun struggled to draw deep breaths without inhaling pie crust and lemon goo. Something dripped into his eye and the street went blurry. He could barely see what looked like two laughing bleach-blondes step forward with pies of their own. Luhan rubbed his long sleeves together maniacally.

  
"Let the games begin," he said, and stepped back. The two customers stepped forward. Tao started breathing heavier.

  
Sehun looked down at the ground and tried his hardest to become a teensy blade of grass.

 

  
Towards the end of the afternoon, the sun slipped out from behind thin clouds. A steady breeze combated the heat, but Kyungsoo tugged the neck of his sweater a little uncomfortably. He wanted to change clothes, but no one else could run the booth. Baekhyun slept soundly underneath the table (again), while Junmyeon networked with Director Park and some ladies from Beta Omega Alpha. Minseok disappeared inside to "charge the iPod" two hours ago. The freshmen were obviously out of the question. And Jongdae and Yixing, bless their souls, took a car to the supermarket to replenish their dangerously low pie stash.

  
That left Chanyeol.

  
He looked over at the booth beside him. He really, really didn't want to speak to Chanyeol.

  
The entire afternoon, Kyungsoo was irked by the kissing booth. Sparse customers were lured near it, most of them girls, and Chanyeol appeared unruffled and amused at every opportunity to kiss some random stranger. Cocky and in need of validation: the most irksome qualities Chanyeol possessed, and there he sat parading himself in public. Overhearing him flirt outrageously with every passerby made Kyungsoo want to gag. How artificial. How contrived. He loathed the way Chanyeol made advancements - because he knew Chanyeol, alright, and those saccharine-sweet pickup lines weren't genuine.

  
Chanyeol tripped on the staircase twice a week, he slept with Rilakkuma dolls, he owned more ugly snapbacks than even Luhan, and he laughed obnoxiously loudly in every situation. He never shut the fuck up. A bit of natural charm hid his innate immaturity - but fuck, Kyungsoo could hardly watch him sleaze into another customer's mouth. Chaste kisses or not, the coy smiles exchanged over the booth made him nauseous.

  
Earlier, he made the mistake of glancing over right as Chanyeol leaned down to kiss a girl with fuchsia-tipped hair. Abruptly he flashed back to when he kissed those lips. When he was the one leaning into Chanyeol's space, touching his hair, listening to his quiet noises -

  
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. He didn't want to talk to Chanyeol at all right now.

  
So Kyungsoo sweated a little bit, bought a water bottle from his own damn booth, and smiled at an approaching group of noonas. "4,000 won for baked goods," he said. "8,000 won to pie the freshmen. All proceeds go directly to a nearby children's hospital, where Chi Omega will be performing a benefit concert as well."

  
They nodded politely and moved along.

  
"500 won for a kiss," Chanyeol offered, lounging back in his plastic chair. His ridiculously happy smile caused the group of girls to pause. They looked at one another. Shoulders shrugged. Chanyeol lifted an eyebrow.

  
Two girls stepped forward, blushing in the bright light. Kyungsoo looked away.

  
It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

  
_161011, LIVING ROOM_

  
Junmyeon was literally in the middle of saying, "You know, I think this is the smoothest start to the semester that Chi Omega has had in _at least_ three years - " when the power went out.

  
It felt slow. The first floor went, then a little clicking noise as it moved upward to the second floor, then the third floor. Finally Baekhyun screamed when the basement flickered out. The entire house fell into an unsettling darkness. When Junmyeon blinked, he couldn't distinguish eyelid from living room.

  
Well, fuck.

  
"I can't believe I pay the tuition for this place," Luhan commented. His voice came oddly from the left, as if he'd moved around the table in the past few shadowed seconds. The sound of rustling fabric was the only indication that he was still moving.

  
Not only tuition bills - fraternity bills. They paid to live in this house, though it was university property. But there was nothing to be done about power outages. Just a problem associated with living in a big city.

  
"I'll call the work request center," Junmyeon said. He sighed and allowed his head to drop into his hands for one precious second. In order to charge his laptap, he would need to leave the building. And put on proper shoes. Which he really, really did not feel like doing. At least in this lighting, Luhan wouldn't comment on the stress lines in his face. Pointing them out only seemed to make them worse.

  
Luhan giggled somewhere to his right. It was disturbing. "I have a better idea."

  
The members of the house convened in the living room as if called. Kyungsoo led the way downstairs, brandishing his phone flashlight and appearing altogether unruffled. Chanyeol tried to follow behind him but missed the final step of the staircase and careened into his back. They shuffled and snapped their way to the dining table. Junmyeon tried desperately to adjust to the feeble, jerky light Kyungsoo provided by dropping his phone in the middle of the table - but he probably still squinted like a blind _ahjumma_. Whatever.

  
Baekhyun and the freshmen squabbled their way up from the basement.

  
"What happened? This is terrifying," Tao whined. Four shapes congealed and separated around the table. None of them, obviously, had even thought to grab a flashlight. Or a phone. Tao sat gingerly on the couch and hugged a pillow to his chest. His pout was visible even in the gray light.

  
Someone's teeth flashed. Baekhyun, grinning like a psychopath.

  
"Jongdae and Minseok aren't home," Junmyeon said, pinching his nose, "and Yixing is sleeping. It's just us."

  
"Excellent," Luhan said. A kind of hush fell over the living room. When Luhan was pleased, everyone was suspicious.

  
As president of Chi Omega, Junmyeon would likely regret allowing Luhan to ever step foot into the house. As president of Chi Omega who also sometimes just couldn't be fucked to act the mature and responsible part, Junmyeon would likely see the value of his vice president someday. Just maybe not today.

  
"As I'm sure you all remember, Junmyeon mentioned a - what did you say? 'Pleasant initiation' for the freshman? I'd prefer to call it hell semester. This here is your first spontaneous task. Jongin, Sehunnie, Tao. Get the power back on. And don't call campus security. Do it yourselves."

  
Ten minutes later, the three freshmen had been very abruptly shoved down the front steps and abandoned on the curb.

  
"I thought you said your brother wouldn't actually haze us," Sehun said.

  
Greek row sat relatively quiet for a Friday evening. The breeze smelled vaguely of fried chicken and soju - typical. Chi Omega's yawning windows were massive gapes of darkness. Creepy and disconcerting. Sehun peered down the street and couldn't find a single house, fraternity or sorority, with the lights out. They were the only ones affected.

  
"This isn't hazing," Jongin objected, stepping into the street. He knocked his cap back to squint at the bright, defiant streetlight. With tufts of hair sticking out on both sides and hands stuffed into the pockets of his basketball shorts, he looked the picture perfect freshmeat douchebag.

  
"This is torture," Tao said. "It's impossible. How are we supposed to get the power back on alone? We're music majors, not engineers?"

  
"This is just Luhan being lazy," Jongin said again.

  
It didn't matter why they had to fix Chi Omega's problems or whose fault it was - Jongin would defend his brother without thought, without even realizing it, and Tao just liked to complain. It only mattered how they would move forward. Like it or not, this was their first pledge test.

  
Sehun typed out a private message.

  
sehunnie  
_any advice o wise big?_

  
chanyeol  
_kekekkekkekee hurry!!_

  
sehunnie  
_i hate you_

  
He turned his phone off as a giant Fuck You to Park Chanyeol and every single person in Chi Omega. The sound of shattering glass echoed from a nearby frat house. Jongin yawned.

  
"It's almost eight," Sehun said, resigned, "and I still have psych homework. Let's get this over with."

 

* * *

 

  
_161017, SECOND FLOOR_

  
As midterms loomed, the tension in the house rose like the heat on a humid day. It began in the basement and thickened as it slicked upwards. Sounds became muffled and murky. It was never clear whether the third floor was vacant or not - no footsteps creaked the floorboards, no pipes jumped at the start of a shower. The harmonized chaos of the past several months rolled to a slow and jerky stop.

  
On a free afternoon, Kyungsoo sprawled on the floor of his room with notebooks strategically placed under the window. He soaked in the natural light and poured over music theory notes. Sometimes Chanyeol's "classical mix for my study buddy" played softly from his laptop. It was probably the last warm-ish day of the semester, and he was inside studying.

  
Listening to a string quartet reminded Kyungsoo of his classical music days. His background was primarily in string instruments - violin, harp, some cello. Timeless and easy to manipulate with slender hands. As a kid he hated recitals. Once, his hands started shaking so badly he physically couldn't wrap his fingers around the bow. He kept dropping and retrieving, dropping and retrieving, right onstage with a blue tie and his parents in the front row.

  
A miracle he'd stuck with music at all after that.

  
Downstairs, the front door slammed. It was the first legitimate noise the house felt in a week at least. It woke something in Kyungsoo. He rubbed his eyes and set down his notebook. A list of compositions from the 1920's to modern day that he needed to memorize by... tomorrow. Yeah, great.

  
The stomping upstairs could only be Baekhyun. He stopped in the doorway to Kyungsoo's room, mouth already open and hair in a complete disarray. The bottom of his red shirt looked terribly wrinkled.

  
"Hey," Baekhyun said.

  
"Hey," Kyungsoo said. He sat up and craned his neck around to properly see him. "What's up?"

  
"I have to talk to you about something."

  
"...Okay."

  
"Okay."

  
Well, fuck.

  
Kyungsoo flashed on a collection of recent memories. All the terrible pranks he'd helped Chanyeol pull. The saran wrap. The time he meticulously hid fifty-eight pink starbursts in and around Baekhyun's stuff because that was his least favorite flavor. The window. Oh, god, the time he borrowed Baekhyun's precious blow-dryer and accidentally dropped it from the second story window trying to get a "natural" look. He'd dashed off to work without a word of explanation.

  
"What is it?" he asked, sitting up a smidgen straighter.

  
"I know it's not my business," Baekhyun started, then stepped inside and sat beside him.

  
This wasn't about a prank. Baekhyun's voice was low, and serious in a way it rarely was. The way his eyes skirted Kyungsoo's shoes told him he was uncharacteristically uncomfortable. The serene music abruptly felt wrong.

  
"But look, you need to talk to Chanyeol. He doesn't know what the fuck is going on, and letting him dangle like that for so long is - I'm sorry. It's not right. Whatever you're thinking, just explain it to him. He deserves that."

  
This wasn't what he expected. Kyungsoo opened his mouth and nothing came out. It felt like a scoop had descended into his chest and severed everything important inside him. The emptiness waned.  
"What," he said. Panic. "What."

  
"He's miserable, Kyungsoo."

  
"So," he tried again. "He _told you_ what happened?"

  
Baekhyun leaned back. His little deer nose crinkled like he'd smelled something off. "That's what you're worried about? What the fuck - no, not at first. He lied for the entire summer. But last week we hotboxed in the basement for so long I don't think he knew he was speaking. Then he told me."

  
"You're right," he said. "It's none of your business."

  
Baekhyun rubbed his eyes. He stood up, and the keys to his motorcycle slapped against his thigh. Neon notecards, likely for his Into to Music Theory class, stuck out from his back pocket. "Okay. You're right. But just talk to him, you owe him that."

  
He stole out of the room much quieter than when he entered. Kyungsoo sat defenseless and limp on the wood floor. He reconstructed the past couple of days: Chanyeol skipping his post-workout breakfast to head straight to the studio, jumping from internship to library to bed. It was midterm season. It was to be expected. But he couldn't summon up the memory of their last real conversation. It had to be days ago, a week maybe.

  
Chanyeol had studied with him just two nights before. They didn't speak much, and Chanyeol knocked out on the floor after twenty minutes, but that was something, right? Kyungsoo hadn't noticed anything seriously off. Fuck, was he just oblivious?

  
" _He's miserable_."

  
The playlist started over. Chanyeol's all-time favorite held the first spot: Kiss the Rain by Yiruma. Not technically classical, but he snuck it into Kyungsoo's playlist anyway. The sun through the window felt too bright.

  
He remembered the heat of that night. If he could take it back, would he?

  
No.

 

* * *

 

  
_160603, END OF SEMESTER KICKOFF, BETA TAU SIGMA HOUSE_

  
It felt exactly like that first party.

  
When Kyungsoo thought of rush week, he didn't remember the handshakes and myriad of politically-pressed recruiters. Rush week felt like stickiness: humidity licking columns up his neck, residual punch between his fingers after catching a toppling beer pong cup.

  
The heat now swung back to Seoul in full force. Long after the sun dripped below the horizon, it was still warm enough for jeans and a loose black shirt. Kyungsoo added two shovels of ice to his drink - something orange and fizzy and blessedly cool.

  
He skirted a rowdy game of King's Cup and ducked into the front yard. Honestly, he wasn't even sure which house he was in - Chanyeol had dragged him all the way down Greek row at this point. Somewhere between playing pong with Mingyu and avoiding the streakers outside AOA, they were separated.

  
Usually it wouldn't bother Kyungsoo - fresh air, a recollection of his quiet personal space - but it didn't feel right to scuff his shoes along the curb alone. Maybe it was the sallow streetlight. Maybe it was the alcohol. He knew Chanyeol would eventually find him again, but he wanted him to be faster. A burst of raucous laughter cut through the music from two houses down. The entire street teemed with life and Kyungsoo tilted his head back, trying to absorb their collective enthusiasm. Like osmosis. Just with alcohol instead of water.

  
As if on cue, the front door slammed. Kyungsoo stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He didn't have to turn around to know who followed with quick, loud steps.

  
"Hey!" Chanyeol said, eyes bright. "Leaving without me? Where to next?"

  
His ridiculous blue tank top slid off one shoulder. Kyungsoo watched the muscles in his arms move. Stretched, then taut, then stretched again when he reached out to touch Kyungsoo's arm. Heat stirred in his stomach and filled his face. Kyungsoo pressed his own hand, cold from the forgotten fizzy drink, to the warmth rising in his cheeks.

  
"Hi," he said to Chanyeol. Belated. Slow.

  
"Maybe we should head back home," Chanyeol said. His lips thinned in that stupid repressed smile. He only wore that face when he humored Kyungsoo - like now. Kyungsoo wasn't really that drunk. He walked unaccompanied down the sidewalk.

  
The light caught in Chanyeol's silver hair as they moved. He said something about the alcohol level of Baekhyun's ass, but Kyungsoo couldn't hear over the rising rush in his head. He wasn't that drunk. But he couldn't look away from Chanyeol's mouth as he talked. Normally those ceaseless pink lips were an easy danger to avoid. Suffocate his own desires, and all.

  
But he couldn't look away. They leapt up the porch steps to Chi Omega in one go - Chanyeol giggling and flashing bright teeth - and Kyungsoo finally tore his eyes away to open the door and escape into the relative safety of their own house. The strange buzzing in his head didn't fade.

  
Chanyeol pressed a hand to the small of his back. Not like he was afraid Kyungsoo would trip over the threshold of the door. Just naturally. His hand slipped there and stayed, like it fit.  
It struck Kyungsoo that he could definitely, totally, absolutely take advantage of this.

  
At first glance, the house looked empty. A light left on in the kitchen cast elongated shadows over both couches. The back door hung wide open, inviting all manners of insects to flutter inside. The temperature felt marginally cooler.

  
Kyungsoo bent to untie his shoelaces and nearly tipped forward - not because he was drunk, or even that tipsy, but because he was distracted by Baekhyun's sandals strewn in front of the hallway. Incongruous. He would think that over later, when he could focus past the buzz and the ChanyeolChanyeolChanyeol thrumming in his head.

  
"Whoa," Chanyeol said. His hands returned to Kyungsoo's sides to steady him. In this position - bodies bent together and hyperaware - Kyungsoo could close his eyes and inhale something sweet. It wasn't the alcohol. But he could blame the alcohol. If he wanted to. It was a perfect fucking excuse.

  
"I'm fine," Kyungsoo said.

  
He straightened and headed upstairs. A muffled thump echoed from the kitchen below. Kyungsoo quickened his steps, one hand bracing the wall for support.

  
"Wait up - " Chanyeol laughed. Breathless.

  
It was always like this. A pattern, a game of tag. Kyungsoo ran and Chanyeol followed.

  
He stepped through the door and crossed immediately to the open window. The curtains waved gently. An evening breeze. The house, though cooler, felt staler. A tension under Kyungsoo's skin spread. As Chanyeol crossed the room behind him, he closed his eyes. Listened to the press of Chanyeol's weight on the rug. His quiet breathing. The only light came filtered from the street. Distantly, Greek row howled.

  
I want this so bad, he thought, and turned around.

  
"I'll get you some water," Chanyeol offered. He looked somewhere in the vicinity of the window.

  
"No."

  
"Okay, sure. Remember the last time you refused water and started puking out the window and Junmyeon almost had a heart attack - "

  
Just like that, Kyungsoo was laughing. "That was one time you asshole, let it go!"

  
He made to shove Chanyeol in the chest - hard, he wasn't holding back - but Chanyeol caught his hands. Suddenly they stood too close. Kyungsoo's heart thundered. Skin on skin. Chanyeol's lips parted, like he was about to speak and break the heavy hot silence and potentially ruin absolutely everything -

  
Kyungsoo pulled his hands away, took a deep breath in a vain attempt to clear his head, and really pushed Chanyeol. His palms fit over wide hips and he led Chanyeol backward, stumbling but so quick, until Chanyeol hit the edge of the bed and tipped backward. He sat up bemused and mouth still open, eyes dark and lids half shut.

  
Something in Kyungsoo's chest trembled and ached. He wanted to reach forward but he could feel his hands, tight at his sides, shaking.

  
Slowly, Chanyeol inclined his head. The line of his pale throat stretched, so inviting. "Kyungsoo," he said, and his voice was lower than ever and Kyungsoo couldn't breathe let alone think - he could get away with this, just once, just once before he drowned in the summer heat -

  
He kissed Chanyeol. It was so easy to step forward. One hand in his silver hair, one hand on the cut of his jaw. Chanyeol's knees parted and he leaned forward, an immediate enthusiastic response. The surge of dizzying adrenaline had Kyungsoo's fingers twitching in his hair, searching for an anchor.

  
The humming, hysterical energy under his skin quieted.

  
Chanyeol's hands flexed on Kyungsoo's waist. He kissed quicker and quicker until their hands started moving, up and over skin while thin fingers curled around the end of Kyungsoo's shirt.

  
Abruptly, Chanyeol pulled back.

  
His lips were dark. He breathed deep, uneven, and he yanked his hands back so fast that Kyungsoo almost fell forward. "Wait," he said, "wait, wait, you're drunk, don't - "

  
"I'm not that drunk," Kyungsoo rushed. The sudden rejection stung. He dropped his eyes straight down, to the edge of the bed, and tried to sort out the mess in his head. Chaos. Above all, desire. He knew Chanyeol. He knew the way Chanyeol looked at him and touched him. He knew Chanyeol wanted him, too. Just not forever.

  
"I'm fine," Kyungsoo repeated. "I want this."

  
The tiny crack of terror from some region in his spine: addictive. Chanyeol looked at him and the world fell quiet. Everything zoomed in. Chanyeol's dark eyes skirted over his entire face, slow and hesitant. Searching. Kyungsoo willed himself not to shy away. Not this time, not this time, not this time. He could have this just once. Maybe it wouldn't break him.

  
Gently, Chanyeol's hands returned to Kyungsoo's waist. "Okay," he said, moving forward on the bed so they pressed together again. "Okay."

  
They fell into the warm sheets together.

 

* * *

 

  
  
_161017, SECOND FLOOR_

  
Kyungsoo tossed his flashcards to the floor. Fuck it, he was done for the day. Baekhyun's unhappy face, his curt words, replayed in his head. A continuous worried loop. Obviously Chanyeol wanted to talk about what happened last semester, but he had no idea how much. Why now?

  
Something must have changed for Chanyeol to be acting so distant in the past week. Slipping up and telling Baekhyun when he was too high to notice wouldn't make Chanyeol sulk. He rarely sought distance from Kyungsoo. It should've been obvious from the beginning. What did he do wrong?

  
No matter how many times he retraced the past two weeks in his head, Kyungsoo couldn't think of a single catalyst for Chanyeol's attitude.

  
Jongdae interrupted his brooding thoughts.

  
"Hey," he said, stepping into the room and shedding his backpack on the floor. A loose, frizzy curl fell over his forehead. Two empty cups of coffee dangled from one hand. "How's it going? Wait. What year did Lionel Richie release 'Hello?'"

  
"1984," Kyungsoo replied without thinking, "and it topped the American Billboard charts for two weeks."

  
"You've been busy," Jongdae beamed. He toed off his shoes and placed the empty cups on his desk like trophies. He smelled vaguely of sweat and cotton candy - like he'd been working out, not studying. Maybe it was the caffeine. Jongdae always took too much.

  
"Mmm," he replied. "How was your library review session?"

  
"Junmyeon caught me pulling out strands of my hair on the fourth floor lounge, so he bought me three coffees and massaged my hands. I feel fucking fantastic. I might need to throw up, later, but like. Right now. Great. Pretty sure I could hit an A5 if I tried."

  
"Please don't."

  
"That's no fun. You're more dead inside than usual. Midterms got you down?" Jongdae sat on the edge of his bed. His right foot ticked a perfect four-four time. "We could order a pizza."

  
"No thanks," Kyungsoo said, and looked down at his note cards. He fiddled with his hands. "Actually, it's Chanyeol."

  
Jongdae's foot froze. Kyungsoo stared intently at the grooves in the floor against his notes. Stark white against the deep brown. The swoops and climbs of his irregular handwriting. On the last card, he forgot to delineate the year of release for 'Lady Dongbaek.'

  
The fucking playlist still churned out Chanyeol's peaceful music.

  
"What about him?"

  
"I hurt him," Kyungsoo said. Even, measured. In control. "I just don't know how to apologize, because he wants answers from me that I don't have."

  
"Did Baekhyun tell you that?"

  
"Yeah."

  
Jongdae shook his head. He sat back against the pillow. "Baekhyun's a hypocrite. He's looking out for Chanyeol, but it's okay if you don't know what to say to him. But do try. Maybe being honest about your confusion will help you sort it out."

  
It was difficult to envision himself excavating the truth about his feelings while talking about said feelings. Kyungsoo doubted the success of communication in all fronts, though, and this was the second person to advise talking it out with Chanyeol. Something in his chest tightened. He'd pushed off this conversation for so long. He still wasn't ready.

  
He knew Chanyeol was different to him, and he knew everyone noticed. But he also knew that anything more than friendship would be doomed from the start. An impossible thing. Chanyeol wouldn't want him in the long run. His attention span never lasted more than ten minutes. They were too different.

  
That was the root of his problem; all indecision and denial stemmed from that simple truth: there existed no situation in which Chanyeol and Kyungsoo could thrive as more than friends. It wouldn't work. So it didn't matter what Kyungsoo wanted, it didn't matter what Chanyeol felt in the moment, it didn't matter because it simply could never be.

  
"I don't know what to say," Kyungsoo admitted. In a detached sort of way, he felt terrible about breaking down like this in frontof Jongdae. Implying that he couldn't handle his own emotions. He felt vulnerable. It was bound to happen, since they were roommates, but it still added anxiety to a mountaining sense of dread.

  
"Start with that."

  
"I've got to apologize," Kyungsoo said, then scrubbed his eyes. "You're right."

  
"Do it now," Jongdae said, "before you think of twelve million things to say and stress yourself out even more."

  
Yeah, fuck, Jongdae knew him too well. "Okay," he said, and stood up. Every bone in his back cracked. The last pinpricks of sunlight washed along the floor and were sucked into the window. He hadn't noticed the temperature in the room before, but now it felt terribly cold.

  
"Good luck, soldier," Jongdae saluted. Both of his hands were engaged in readjusting every seam of his sweater.

  
"Thanks, Jongdae. Seriously."

  
"Not a problem. I'm probably gonna puke now, so go kick asses."

  
"Please get someone to help you," Kyungsoo said. He stood up and brushed off his jeans. Before he could pluck the lint off his black shirt, he froze. Ridiculous. He didn't need to look good to walk downstairs and talk to Chanyeol.

  
The tightness in his chest trembled and spread like fractures, like a quake, and he took a shallow breath. He had no plan. He had nothing but a dark swirl of dread and the drowning taste of Chanyeol's mint lip balm from six months ago.

  
He walked downstairs and paused to peer into the living room. Just as expected: Jongin and Sehun sprawled over the couch, feet up and facing the TV. Ruffled hair and sleepy eyes. Sehun absently smashed guitar keys. Jongin tapped plastic drumsticks. Green Day RockBand lilted from the speakers, politely turned to a low volume. Lucky, innocuous freshmen and their easy gen ed classes.

  
"Can one of you help Jongdae puke?" He asked.

  
"He's day-drinking on a Wednesday?"

  
Kyungsoo walked away with no clarification, leaving Jongin's mouth dangling open and Sehun's nose curling up in disgust. The door to the basement hung wide open. He followed the dim light downstairs and away from the adjacent mini fridge. Chanyeol's bed was a huge mess - sheet music in every dip of the blanket, standard pillow swapped for an acoustic guitar, two open textbooks, and a highlighter smearing yellow ink into the exposed mattress.

  
So many memories were tuned to that guitar. So many late nights when Kyungsoo felt his anxiety crawl up his throat and he could only slip downstairs and into Chanyeol's pillows for refuge. Chanyeol never seemed to sleep; he woke up with that guitar in hand and often lulled Kyungsoo to sleep with it. They sang infinite covers - from Justin Beiber to James Bay to EXID - and wrote their first original piece with that slim wooden goddess. He loved it almost as much as he loved -

  
He had to look away. Baekyun's bed was spotless. Baekhyun himself was nowhere in sight.

  
Beside the bedding warzone, Chanyeol sat slumped backward in his desk chair. When Kyungsoo skipped the final step and landed with a solid thump, his eyes snapped open and he surveyed the room upside down. Somehow, an ostentatiously pink snapback stayed firm on his head.

  
"Hey," Chanyeol said. "How is th - "

  
"Baekhyun asked me to talk to you," he said, bulldozing whatever inane question Chanyeol had. No room for small talk when Kyungsoo's heart beat twice as fast as normal. He sat on the edge of Chanyeol's bed.

  
An immediate change. Chanyeol sat upright and swiveled to face the bed. His outrageously long legs uncurled from the chair and he sat up unnatural and straight. Uncomfortable. He swept a hand through his thick hair. "Uh," he said, "Okay, I guess I know why. I accidentally let it slip to Baekhyun that we... what we did last semester. He knows. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to tell him. I was really fucking high but I know that's no excuse."

  
"It's okay."

  
"You're not upset?"

  
"I'd rather no one knew," Kyungsoo said, and the subtle twist in Chanyeol's face was blink-and-gone, there in an instant. They sat across from each other and just looked. He took in the loose sleeves, the soft hair above his ears, the shine of pale skin in the gray lamp light. "But it's okay."

  
A blue pen rolled off the desk. It clattered on the wood floor, very loud and very awkward.

  
Kyungsoo's hands moved in the sheets. Why had he come down here? He had no idea what to say. He had no idea how to move the epicenter of his desire, how to find solid ground when every second felt like plummeting. Down, down, down, too far to push the thought out of his mind. Chanyeol unthinkingly nibbled on his lip - a common nervous habit. Kyungsoo stared.  
_I can't have this again. I can't have this again, I can't do this to him again, it was only once_ -

  
He couldn't call it a mistake. He didn't regret it.

  
"Okay," Chanyeol said, "is that it?" He didn't look miserable.

  
"No," Kyungsoo said, "I came down here to..."

  
He didn't finish. The words never came. Chanyeol scooted the chair closer and pressed their knees together. He smelled faintly of fresh rain, even though that was impossible and it hadn't rained for days. They leaned into each other. Again, again, again, they kissed. A gentle press. So different from the first time. Kyungsoo was sober and in sudden high-definition: with a hand on his chest, he felt Chanyeol's heart stutter when he twined three fingers through his luminous hair. Someone's shoe squeaked against the side of the bed when they pressed closer together.

  
So aware. He felt so awake. A tiny part of Kyungsoo, an infinitesimal chamber of the heart, sprouted. It felt like ice in his mouth. Chanyeol's warm lips like wine. Maybe he was drunk. Ice in his chest, then warmth chasing Chanyeol's long fingers under Kyungsoo's shirt. Skin on skin.

  
They parted, the lull between waves. Kyungsoo's eyes slid open. _Fuck, he's so beautiful._

  
Oh. No. He couldn't do this, it was already shattering -

  
"Wait," he said, and Chanyeol's shoulders slipped down. An immediate resignation, an immediate defeat. It hurt to watch him hurt. "Wait, we shouldn't."

  
"Yeah," Chanyeol said, "sorry."

  
Kyungsoo couldn't catch his breath. "We shouldn't. But I... I kind of want to anyway."

  
This time, Chanyeol didn't look for confirmation in his face. He leaned back a little further. The blinds fluttered. Dark eyes met dark eyes and Kyungsoo almost flinched -

  
"No one has to know," Chanyeol said. It sounded like a promise. It sounded like a damnation.

  
"Okay," Kyungsoo said, or he thought he said, or he tried to say.

  
When Chanyeol pushed him backwards onto the bed, it hurt in the best way. Enormous hands, tight on his waist, the drowning of every other thought. It wasn't gentle. Kyungsoo only reached for more, more, more. They were both crafted for war.

 

* * *

 

  
_161018, LIBRARY_

  
Baekhyun had a plan.

  
No, he had a _plot_. A plot to test his own wayward heart against Jongdae's citric sunshine effect. He wanted to know without a doubt if he had wiggly, wonderful feelings for his best friend, or if that was just coincidental drunken/late night hysteria. Back when they were randomly assigned to each other as roommates, their relationship hadn't felt out of the ordinary. Best friends. Partners in crime.  
But it was different, now. For months the thought of touching Jongdae festered in the back of his mind. It needed to stop. As usual, Baekhyun was ready to throw himself ass-first into the fray.

  
It started at a creaky desk in the library, like this:

  
"Jongdae, do you wanna go on a date with me?"

  
"Of course."

  
Baekhyun twirled a pencil. "Uh. Tomorrow night?"

  
"Sure."

  
"Pho and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

  
Jongdae placed a hand over his heart. "Perfect."

  
A group of graduate students at the adjacent table glared obnoxiously, so they fell quiet again. Baekhyun doodled on half-hearted chemistry notes. That went way too smoothly. Jongdae probably thought he was joking. Whatever, he'd make his intentions clear later.

  
The following afternoon, Baekhyun stole Kyungsoo's faded RECYCLE tee that made his collarbones look sexy. Thanks to a group presentation in Music Theory, his eyeliner was still impeccable. He fluffed up his hopeless hair and considered nicking one of Chanyeol's blue snapbacks. It would accentuate his skin tone, right? But would it be worth the humiliation of wearing a snapback on a date?  
No. He had more class than that.

  
baek  
_hey babe still good w 7:30 movie?_

  
chen  
_I'll be ready in ten!!_  
_where are we going for pho_

  
baek  
_I made reservations saigon shack_

  
chen  
_omg my fav!!!_  
_so thoughtful_  
_thanks bb I'll meet you downstairs_

  
Baekhyun burned the last ten minutes by flopping on his bed and checking his Neko Atsume cats. Pudgy once again ate all of the fish, but paid with some mean gold coins. It might have been a trick of the light, but the tiny pixel creature seemed to be getting fatter. If that was even possible.

  
Tap tap tap. He purchased a blue cat scratcher for the porch for a thousand gold coins. Pudgy sat on a pink circle bed. "I support you, babe. Big is beautiful."

  
"Preach," Jongdae said, and Baekhyun jumped so high he nearly fell right off the bed.

  
Jongdae laughed and reached out to help him up. Exactly how he wanted this night to start. The flashes of hot, nervous sweat began. RIP to Kyungsoo's shirt. Baekhyun rolled his shoulders back, tried to relax, and blatantly exploited the opportunity to squeeze Jongdae's hands as he slid off the sheets.

  
Jongdae looked... great. Patient smile, curls sticking up every which way. Thin denim jacket, peeks of a soft red tank underneath, tight black jeans _oh no_. His ass. In those pants. When he turned to hop up the basement steps, Baekhyun started to sweat for a whole different reason.

  
"Uh-huhm," he said.

  
"Let's go, I'm starving," Jongdae said, and they hurried out of the house.

  
It was just before sunset. The humidity leaked slowly out of the air, and the listless breeze brought night chills. A distant honk from the intersection past Greek row echoed in still air. Baekhyun definitely should have brought a jacket. Fuck, Kyungsoo's black leather jacket would be sick -

  
Whatever. This was experimental, it didn't have to be perfect.

  
They were sat at the restaurant immediately. Dinner took about ten minutes. Baekhyun's suave, experienced heart might've been beating faster than normal, and he might've taken to drowning in soup to avoid blurting out something stupid like _bro you look really soft today you know?_ or _lips noodles sucking oh my god_ or similar incoherencies.

  
"Are you feeling okay? You look a little feverish."

  
"I'm fine," Baekhyun said, staring at the junction between Jongdae's crumpled eyebrows. "Too much sriracha."

  
"Ah, I see. Wimping out on me already."

  
Baekhyun set down his spoon. "I bet you 20 000 won I can finish this with three more packets."

  
"I'm not taking you up on that," Jongdae said, sipping the last bits of his soup. A fleck of cilantro stuck to his lip and the entire world narrowed to that: green, pink, soft, laughter. "I know you could do it."

  
Impulse control: Baekhyun had none. He snatched a napkin, leaned forward, and swiped the slice off Jongdae's lip. Like the most cliche scene in every kdrama script ever written. The little cilantro leaf twirled onto the plastic table. Jongdae's cute kitten-smile curled upwards. Even when he wasn't laughing, he looked the part.

  
"Thanks," Jongdae said.

  
"No problem."

  
"Did you know you might have a gambling problem?"

  
Baekhyun crunched a bean sprout between his molars. "Absolutely."

  
Carefully settling back into the wooden chair, Jongdae leveled his gaze. Dark, anachronistic eyes. Sometimes Jongdae looked as if he belonged to a Korea from centuries ago, antique beauty and a sharply preserved bone structure. A lineage thick with ancient royal blood. This fleeting intensity had Baekhyun's skin prickling. He reacted so physically to Jongdae, fuck, it was unbelievable. Like a vine to the sun, he leaned.

  
"I bet you 70 000 won you can't go a month without making any new bets," Jongdae said, and Baekhyun promptly snapped out of his hazy, lovelorn fuzz.

  
"What the fuck, yes I can."

  
"Shake on it."

  
They shook on it over two empty red bowls of pho. Baekhyun squeezed hard to convey his complete dedication to the cause. "No betting," he said, "easy. I'm not addicted. If anybody has a problem, it's Chanyeol and his Rilakkuma dolls. Nobody comments on that."

  
Jongdae rolled his eyes.

  
"Did you hear about - "

  
"Firing Professor Lee? Yeah, holy shit - "

  
"Yeah, that's bullshit. We had to cry ourselves to sleep every night and the freshmen get a hot noona, what's her name?"

  
"Professor Lee, actually."

  
"Remember how every day he said - "

  
In unison, they shouted, " _Fat Cats Always Eat Bacon_!"

  
They dissolved into ostentatious giggles. When other customers began to glance at their table, Baekhyun shielded himself behind a menu.

  
After paying, they walked a pleasant ten minutes to the closest off-campus theater and chatted about the upcoming release of CL's newest collab. The steady flow of traffic increased in both amount and volume as they walked east, like exiting the students-only bubble surrounding most universities. The theater pulsed. Ornate fool's gold spirals decorated double door edges. Stray straw wrappers and napkins fluttered along the sidewalk and caught against a traffic sign.

  
True Gentleman Baekhyun opened the door for Jongdae. Amongst the mangled IU lyrics at a consistent buzz in the back of his head, he repeated the mantra _it's a date it's a date it's a date_. He couldn't let the familiarity and comfort of Jongdae distract from his goal of romantic progression.

  
The ticket man ripped both of Baekhyun's tickets. He pocketed the stubs. Stale popcorn and that warm, tepid smell that clung to Kyungsoo's clothes when he stomped home after work: movie theaters. "Glorious," Baekhyun remarked. "It's been too long since I dropped $20 to see something in theaters."

  
Jongdae turned and gave him a funny look. He started to say something but Baekhyun was immediately distracted by the concessions stand. Brightly-colored advertisements for nacho combos and candy packs, a screen flashing the terribly-dubbed teaser for Suicide Squad... and a tiny bowtie guy with large eyes dolling out popcorn for a young couple.

  
Kyungsoo.

  
"Shitfuck," Baekhyun said, and stopped dead in the middle of the lobby.

  
"What?"

  
"Look."

  
"Kyungsoo?" Jongdae sounded bewildered. "Yeah, he works here? You literally make fun of him every week?"

  
Baekhyun pivoted to face the main doorway, turning his back to concessions. "Yes, because I'm an asshole. But he can't see us here right now, we're on a date."

  
"Uh. So? Didn't you get the - "

  
"SO, he's going to blab to Chanyeol, and Chanyeol's going to blab to the entire eastern hemisphere, and I don't want our dirty laundry aired so early in this... night. Endeavor. This whatever."

  
Baekhyun threaded his fingers through Jongdae's and steered them toward the adjacent theaters without preamble. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he caught Jongdae mouthing _this whatever_ with scrunched brows. Gold-plated doors to the first theater. One peek backwards. Kyungsoo handed the popcorn to a young Indian couple. They remained undetected.

  
Success.

  
Or, relative success. Baekhyun spent the next two hours and six minutes in a close, cyclic torture. Step one: glance at Jongdae. Was he doing anything weird? Did anything make Baekhyun feel weird? Step two: Stop looking and being totally fucking obvious that he was a gawk-eyed sloth. Step three: Become so engrossed in the movie that Jongdae no longer existed. Finally, step four: Snap back and check to make sure Jongdae wasn't doing anything weird.

  
Tortuously repetitive. Every time a fight scene ended and reality came swinging back, Baekhyun thought he might explode into tiny fleshy pieces. The stress would simply combust him. Splat.  
Maybe he should pull a move.

  
As two mutated turtles beseeched each other's humanity onscreen, Baekhyun weighed his options. Would it be worth it to grab Jongdae's hand, open and resting on a knee? Tortuously accessible. He could claim sudden turtle-terror later. Yes? No? He wavered.

  
Jongdae stretched and snuggled into Baekhyun's shoulder, fingers wrapping around his bicep. Like he was doing it on purpose.

  
Blue screen light flickered across upturned lips. The darkness of the theater cast a fuzzy shadow over Jongdae's skin. His eyes still caught and glittered, glued to the screen. Baekhyun stared.

  
Although Jongdae didn't turn or acknowledge that he noticed the attention, he did tilt his head up so his jawline nearly brushed the end of Baekhyun's hair. They were so close. Only a breath apart. The rest of the theatre seemed far away. Like a dream, he whispered, "Bet you won't touch me."

  
Baekhyun seized up. Fuck. "You did not just - "

  
But Jongdae was already wriggling closer. He slid one cool hand between Baekhyun's thighs and that was almost the best thing that had ever happened to him, except next Jongdae popped the button on his jeans and that absolutely topped the list. Not for long, though. Jongdae dropped from his seat to the floor. His knees hit with a dull thump. Baekhyun legitimately squeaked.

  
Smirking like the devil himself, Jongdae shoved his knees apart. "You took forever to catch on," he murmured, and dear fucking lord his voice was practically a purr, a seductive thrill that Baekhyun felt echo in the pit of his stomach. His dick twitched.

  
"I - " he started, but Jongdae's finger came up to cover his own mouth. Shhh.

  
In the shadowed back row of the theater, Baekhyun bit into his sleeve. The predator between his legs descended.

 

* * *

 

  
  
_160111, STAIRCASE, APPROXIMATELY 3 AM_

  
"I am about _six seconds_ from bypassing our allotted probationary period and just evicting you from the frat immediately," Luhan said, "so stand up and tell me what the fuck I'm looking at right now."

  
His black-and-white patterned jacket hung in tatters. A scrape on the edge of his ankle peeked through torn socks, red and angry. He held a broken Pepero stick in one hand. The delicate black lines under his eyes smudged and dripped until he looked demonic, possessed, ghostly. Luhan rarely wore anger. But when he did, it rolled over both shoulders and gathered like a bursting storm cloud throughout the room.

  
Jongin dropped the alien mask. It bounced off the bottom of the statue and ricocheted, almost careening into the wall. A long, empty silence reigned.

  
"We have every intention of bringing it back," Kyungsoo said. The very quiet, very subtle slur at the end of his sentence betrayed them all. Someone hiccupped. "We just... needed a selca with it first."

  
"You broke an uncountable amount of university laws to take a selca with the Wolf and by doing so incriminate yourselves and our entire professional fraternity in a federal crime, punishable by a minimum of six months in prison. For a selca. A selca."

  
"When you put it that way - " Kyungsoo started to say, but before he could finish Baekhyun lurched forward. He coughed once, violently, and then puked over the entirety of the statue. A deep red, chunky concoction spilled onto the staircase and dripped downwards. A pair of fake bloodstained teeth bounced off the statue's head, down six steps, and landed on Luhan's shoe.

  
Baekhyun looked up sheepishly and wiped his mouth. "Sorry?"

 

* * *

 

  
_161031, SIX HOURS EARLIER_

  
junmyeon (dear mr president)  
_Don't forget to call maintenance about the sprinklers and the porch light, please. Three industrial sized ramen packs are stashed in the stairway cupboard underneath the vacuum. Have a great Halloween, be safe, and PLEASE don't break anything!!_

  
chen chen  
_I miss you already hyung_

  
kyungsoo  
_have a safe trip! good luck!_

  
chen chen  
_fighting !!!_

  
lu-ge  
_pls don't leave me with them_

 

* * *

 

 

_161031, THIRD FLOOR, APPROXIMATELY 10 PM  
_

  
Luhan etched out the final line of his makeup. Eyeliner on point, hair tall and proud, cardigan slim and striped and perfectly devilish. Flattering black leggings. Excellent. He capped his Maybelline pen and pivoted to face Minseok.

  
" _Viola_ ," he said, waving his hands to demonstrate the flawless expanse of costume. "How do I look?"

  
"Uh... absolutely stunning."

  
"I don't like that attitude. Cheer up, Minseokkie, we don't have to host tonight."

  
"I do love being irresponsible," Minseok said brightly. He scratched at the edge of his matching make up and Luhan swatted his hand down. "Let's get blackout drunk so we don't remember to check midterm grades tomorrow morning."

  
Luhan grinned. Dazzling and dark all at once. "Exactly."

  
Minseok pulled on his leather jacket and they walked downstairs together. A small mountain of sweets graced the main table. Around it, a group of adoring fans clamored and squabbled for the tastiest bits. Luhan took the final step just in time to see Jongdae club Kyungsoo over the head with a jumbo-sized KitKat.

  
Kyungsoo socked his roommate in the chest. He plucked a pair of glasses from the table and held one finger over the lens, as if he was about to pop it out and shatter the frame. "Hand over the KitKat," he said, "and your dollar store costume accessories stay alive."

  
Rather than stumble into the impending fight, Luhan dodged Chanyeol's huge hands reaching for a mango HiChew and leaned around to snatch two bags of Hello Panda. He backed away quickly and almost ran into Minseok, who had followed diligently.

  
Luhan adjusted his tight, leather shoes. "They're fighting over the candy like it's alcohol," he mused. He latched onto Minseok's sleeve. "Let's get out of here before they notice Junmyeon locked the liquor cabinet."

  
"They fight like kindergartners, they get to party like kindergartners."

  
"It's a necessary precaution. No hosting in the house means no drinking in the house, at least not tonight," Luhan said. Coconut rum still left him reeling from PTSD flashbacks of Halloween freshman year. He would never admit to being the reason Pledge Rule #2 was amended: No puking in the house, minus 100 points, yadda yadda. He once considered it a point of pride that he hadn't been depledged after puking on Kris's bed. Seventeen times.

  
Not that he wanted to reminisce, anyway.

  
He spared one final glance at the house before closing the door. Baekhyun tossed Raisinets to Tao, who seemed to catch every single one with his face rather than his mouth.

  
"I hope to see none of them for the next ten hours," Luhan announced.

  
Minseok nodded. "I love the brothers," he said, "but they're more like sons and we're too young to be parents. Let's get wrecked."

  
They slammed the door a little harder than necessary.

 

  
Meanwhile, Sehun primped in the upstairs bathroom. He combed gel through his hair once, twice, three times. He posted a selca of his "halloween #ootd" to Snapchat. Sprayed thin cologne. Pulled his sleek tie tighter around his neck. Loosened it when he struggled to breathe.

  
Finally, he smoothed down his secret agent suit. It only took some forty-odd minutes ( _hurry the fuck up, don't you know how to dress yourself, princess?_ a teasing Tao's voice whispered in his head) but dammit, Sehun wanted to look good. If his life would enter a Code Red Panic mode starting tomorrow after the release of midterm grades, he wanted to take full advantage of his last weaning night of freedom. He wanted to get on Greek row, he wanted to dance with strangers, and he wanted to get laid. Maybe. Hopefully.

  
He sent a gtg text to three conversations he was half-heartedly pursuing. He needed focus. Sehun stomped purposefully downstairs, careful not to wrinkle his long khakis, and bypassed the candy-enamored plebeians on his way to the liquor cabinet.

  
Pledge Rule #1. Liquor cabinet is off-limits. Immediate depledging.

  
He stared hard at the huge, wooden pantry. Tiny metal handles. A deep scratch on the left side, as if someone took keys to the surface a la Carrie Underwood. Sehun vs. the archaic, cockblocking rules of Chi Omega.

  
"Chanyeol," he called, without turning around. Behind him, the squabbling ebbed.

  
"Sehun-ah? What are you doing?"

  
"Will you do me a favor, O Glorious Big?"

  
Chanyeol stepped close to loom over Sehun's shoulder in his ridiculous, thick Joker makeup. A speck of black eyeshadow flicked onto Sehun's jacket. The intoxicating smell-jumble of hairspray and cherry lollipop nearly choked him. "Mayyyybe."

  
"Will you pour me a shot?"

  
"From here?" Chanyeol asked, looking at the cabinet like it held snakes. Even when he frowned, the red lipstick up his cheeks appeared to form a grotesque smile. He stepped back.

  
Sehun kept his cool and ignored Jongin's snickering in the background. It would work. They would pregame here, where he could safely toss himself into tispy without fear of loss of control, hit-or-miss drinks, exhaustion from dancing too hard too early, etc. This night would be perfect and this would be its launch.

  
"I can't get in," he said calmly. "But you can. And you can pour me a shot."

  
"We're not really supposed to drink at home on Halloween," Baekhyun said, "it's a good networking opportunity for meeting other students in Greek life to attend their parties a few times a semester. That's what Junmyeon says, anyway."

  
"No one else is here," Sehun pointed out.

  
"We could," Chanyeol said, and now a light bloomed in his eyes. "Halloween's not an official rule. Technically you won't be in the liquor cabinet, either."

  
Just as Kyungsoo loudly crunched into the last bite of his KitKat, Chanyeol grabbed a handle of the cabinet. He pulled. Nothing. He jerked. Nothing. He set one foot against the adjacent wall and heaved. Nothing.

  
Jongdae's eyes disappeared when he burst out laughing. "They locked it. They locked it! They didn't trust us to go out and socialize with others for one night!"

  
Defeated and deflated, Sehun stuffed an outdated chocolate bunny in his mouth from the disappearing candy pile. There went his perfectly executed plans. He mournfully picked at a loose thread in his suit. Might as well get going then. It was nearing 10 PM. The parties along Greek row revved their engines, and Sehun tilted his head.

  
"Then let's go. I want to dance," he said, clapping Jongin on the back and directing him toward the front door. A feeble attempt at pale vampire makeup smeared at the sharp curve of his jaw. (Kyungsoo took one look at him earlier and said _don't whitewash yourself_ , to which Jongin spent a painful hour moaning about his own fallacies and how much he loved his beautiful skin).

  
"I feel so betrayed," Chanyeol remarked absently. He jiggled the handle once more.

  
They congregated around the table one last time. Impatient, Sehun shoved a box of Pepero into his pocket for drunken snacking later. Pepero was literally unbeatable for post-party shenanigans, in any sense of the word.

  
"Apparently Alpha Omega Alpha has flaming marshmallow shots," Jongdae said, reading from a text message. "Jimin says it's 'litty citty' over there."

  
And so they went.

  
After that, Sehun's night passed in an unfocused rush. Stark images stood out: Kyungsoo's alien mask slipping when he laughed into Chanyeol's chest on a foreign couch. Three fluorescent yellow shots in a cool, grassy backyard. A dance floor with Bollywood music. Tao attempting to backflip in a fur coat and knocking over a beer pong table - abruptly, the spiked adrenaline of their entire posse bolting out the back door. Iced pomegranate vodka. A beautiful pigtail blonde in a blue dress who tangled the beat around her fingers and pressed it thick into Sehun's mouth.

  
That's where he lost it. He drank the music deep, pulled it inside with every exhale, and the drum was his heart and his heart was the drum. His feet disconnected and floated. The girl twisted closer, and Sehun reached for her waist.

  
"You're damn cute," she said, or seemed to say, but her red lips sat plush and stationary. Unmoving. "You're real damn cute."

  
"Thanks," he tried to reply, but butterflies spouted from his mouth and flew into the crowd. Bright, pulsing lights of all different colors swirled in a convex cone. From the inside out, he turned bit by bit into a shaft of light. He felt whole.

  
The ceiling became visible again. It spun wildly. Someone said his name, and said his name again, and said his name again. Jongin. The girl was gone. "Sehun," he said, "Sehun, we're taking Baekhyun home. Someone slipped him something and he's freaking out."

  
"Oh no," he said, "Oh, no, Jonginnie, who is that?"

  
"What? Are you okay?"

  
"I feel great. Leave me alone."

  
"Sehun? Sehun, we're going home and I don't want to leave you alone - "

  
"Do you remember when you broke your leg in second grade and they put you on laugh - laughing gas? Like the colors and shit?"

  
"Yeah - what?" Jongin touched his shoulders. His hands were ice. His eyes were dark and dark and Sehun didn't like it, he liked the lights and music better, but Jongin's voice was somehow louder than six high-definition speakers blasting SHINee.

  
What was he saying? "Wait, I'm not alone. Where's that girl."

  
The pretty little pigtail girl. She sank into the crowd as soon as Jongin appeared. He could still feel the fabric of her soft dress. He rubbed his fingertips together and the colors jerked once. Then they spread. A distant sense of unfamiliarity snuck up on Sehun, like he suddenly found himself in a body he didn't recognize. His lungs tripped up and he coughed. He was in the wrong body, his body didn't move so slow and there were never this many fucking colors -

  
"I'm taking you home too," Jongin squeezed his arm.

  
Before they could move, gravity flipped. No one noticed except Sehun. The crowd kept gyrating in a nauseating way, while he flew upwards and bounced casually off the stucco ceiling. Accidentally, he dislodged a bit of white plaster. It fell into someone's drink below. The deafening music was muted, muffled up here. It was warmer and more peaceful. Heat rises, right? He relaxed and floated.

  
He became very aware that he was traveling without trying to. Away from the party, away from the lights. Vaguely, he was irritated by this. The lights were fucking weird and something was really fucking wrong but at least they were pretty.

  
Jongin, that's right. "You're pretty too," Sehun assured him, and when he moved his head a little he realized starkly he hung upside down in Jongin's arms.

  
Oh, my god. Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god - "How embarrasssing," he moaned. "No. No, no, fuck this. Put me down. Kim Jongin. Where are we goin' you little dick bastard put me down - "

  
He curled inward so that he rested against Jongin's chest and hid his face. No one could see him and recognize him. What a reputation. He was so drunk. He just got too drunk, that was it, he didn't mean to he just wanted -

  
They breached the house. A door. Someone's drink splashed onto Jongin's pants, and Sehun watched a dark spot grow along his thigh. Very cold air. These things happened, though in what order Sehun didn't quite remember.

  
A tight conversation happened above him. Someone's hand pressed to his partially hidden forehead. The chilled air very slowly forced the colors completely out of his eyes. He blinked rapidly. "Jongin," he said, "You can put me down now. I promise."

  
"Are you sure?"

  
"Yes."

  
"I don't want you to fall."

  
"I won't. Maybe. Don't catch me."

  
A quiet sigh. Sehun's entire body unfolded and he at once felt his toes, fingers, calves and ears and bright glowing mouth. He felt strange. But he felt.

  
The concrete sidewalk beneath his feet. A large punch stain on his shirt. Fuck. Jongin and Kyungsoo stood in front of him with equally large eyes and pitying puckers of the mouth. Both their hair was tousled and they smelled vaguely of pineapple and tequila. The street spread behind them, and an unfamiliar house loomed to his right. Light threaded out of the open doorway, clusters of people spilled over onto the porch, and two girls in cat ears puked from a second story window. Where the fuck? He didn't. He didn't remember anything.

  
"How - what - " he started breathing unevenly. "Where's that girl?"

  
"She drugged you, Sehun," Kyungsoo said. Blank-faced. Straight to the point. "We're going home. Can you walk?"

  
"I'm fine," he shot back automatically. Fuck if anyone was taking care of him tonight, drugged or not. God dammit. How had he been so stupid? The enigmatic weightlessness from earlier mutated into something ugly, something heavy in his stomach. He felt like puking. If he puked, would it be out of his system?

  
Oh, my god. He'd been drinking. He was crossed. Or something. He was like, double-loaded.

  
The sounds of someone actually puking drew his attention, and Sehun glanced over to his left for the first time. On the curb, Baekhyun sat bending over and emptying his stomach in the street. Chanyeol and Jongdae shielded him from the lights of the house, while Tao shielded himself against a nearby bush.

  
He couldn't look or he'd be next. How did this happen.

  
"Oh my god. Holy fuck. Okay. Okay. I need to," Sehun closed his mouth because his words were floating out of his mouth as bubbles. "Wait. Can you hear me? CAN YOU HEAR M - "

  
"Yes, yes, we can hear you, it's okay," Jongin said, one hand on Sehun's fluttering heartbeat, or his neck, or his wings, same thing. "Shhh."

  
"Sorry. I need to cleanse myself. I don't feel good. I need to purge. I need some bubble tea."

  
"Now isn't a great time. We'll go tomorrow, okay?"

  
"It's gonna make me feel better. I need it."

  
"It's two streets away. You can't walk that far."

  
"Jonginnie," he said, and he had it. He watched Jongin's melted chocolate eyes look him up and down as if checking for injuries. "Please. I'll walk, I promise."

  
It was decided. Some complicated facial expressions were passed from Jongin to Kyungsoo. A really shitty song filtered out through the door. Sehun tried to step further away from the house and almost tripped over a ladybug, but caught himself just in time. The ladybug wasn't real. It totally wasn't real.

  
Several seconds passed in which someone spoke to him, but he absorbed none of it. Sehun vaguely remembered nodding, because it made him nauseous, and then stopping to think of glow in the dark bubble tea. Shots of glow in the dark bubble tea. Shots.

  
Jongin tapped his arm. Tap, tap, tap. "We're walking to get bubble tea, okay? Are you ready?"

  
"Yes," he said. "Where is Baekhyun?"

  
"Baekhyun's coming, too. He wants some. Whatever you guys had, it's making you crave sweets."

  
"Fuck bunnies," Sehun replied, and laughed a little bit, and the image of his chocolate bunny from earlier slid into mind. They walked. He held Jongin's arm. The outline of Chanyeol's frizzy, green-and-grey hair bobbed like a guiding lantern in the dim night. When they passed under a streetlight, he pinched Jongin's arm to make sure the light didn't touch him. It felt right.

  
House party after house party. They reached the end of a street Sehun didn't recognize. "How much further?"

  
"Almost there," Jongin promised, and they stepped off the curb and into the street. Now it looked familiar. Large university placard. Well-maintained jasmine beds. The entrance to Greek row.  
  


"This isn't bubble tea," he stated absently. His own voice sounded far away. "We weren't on Greek row before?"  
  


"Nope."

  
"Oh."

  
They passed the university mascot statue. A large bronze wolf, erect at mid-thigh, sat ready to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. It was rumored to have spiritual powers. If someone climbed past the university welcome sign and rubbed its back left foot, the wolf would bless you with a semester of straight A's. Sehun had never done it. He stopped walking. The sidewalk kept moving for a second, but he stayed still and didn't budge until everything settled.

  
"What's wrong?" Jongin stepped closer. His skin felt so warm.

  
Sehun smiled. Big, open. He felt light again, like a mirror reflecting some hidden sun. "Nothing. I'm going to cheer Baekhyun up."

  
Kyungsoo giggled, and for some reason that set all of them off. The others were still drunk, or at least tipsy enough not to escape all of Sehun's contagious lightness. He felt himself spreading out and touching others like a gentle breeze. Maybe he could reverse gravity again. Or at least float.

  
He turned to wait for the others to catch up. Baekhyun walked just fine on his own, but one hand anchored onto Jongdae's wrist. The dribble of fake blood at the corner of his lip had been smeared away. One of his white contact lenses was gone. The inconsistency in his face was more disturbing than the vampire makeup, but he smiled regardless. Chanyeol grinned at something on his phone while Jongdae tugged on Baekhyun's sleeve fondly.

  
Baekyhun drew closer and perked up. "What's up?"

  
"I triple dog dare you," Sehun said, and stuck out one long finger, "to steal that and take a picture with it. On a toilet."

  
He pointed to the wolf statue.

  
No one moved.

  
Chanyeol looked up and slowly shook his head. His eyes were wide and comical in dark eyeshadow. Jongdae fell into another fit of inappropriate giggles, though, and the atmosphere instantly deflated. The group visibly relaxed.

  
Aside from Chanyeol, anyway. Mute and horrified, he shook his head harder. Sehun had to tilt his head to look at Baekhyun. He didn't need to lean sideways, really, but he felt it necessary. While someone made a joke and laughed off Sehun's request, Baekhyun frowned and looked at the statue.

  
"Okay," he said, slowly. Definitively. That was that.

  
Several things happened so quickly that they might as well have occurred simultaneously. Baekhyun dove off the sidewalk and toward the university sign - Chanyeol's fingers scrabbled in the back of his jacket, desperately reaching to stop him - Kyungsoo sneezed - and Sehun started clapping obnoxiously loud.

  
The wolf turned its muzzle to welcome Baekhyun's embrace.

  
It took nearly five whole seconds to lift the statue. Sehun waited, clapping, with bated breath. He felt a bit dizzy. Either the statue was hollow and a lot smaller than it appeared, or Baekhyun had hit the gym more often than expected. He slid it under both arms and stood on wobbly, feverish legs.

  
One staggering step.

  
"RUN," Baekhyun shouted. "RUN, FUCKERS."

  
He screeched an ungodly noise, bared fake vampire teeth, and took off sprinting at full speed. The tail end of his cape trailed on the cracked sidewalk.

  
Chanyeol burst after him. Jongdae and Kyungsoo followed with uneasy steps, giggling and maybe hysterical. A light in the first house, Sigma something, flickered. Distant bass drums from countless parties muffled his scream. Baekhyun howled. He shouted that he was a wolf, or something. Sehun laughed. His head tilted back and he nearly fell onto his ass, but Jongin's hands caught him again.

  
"Let's go," Jongin gasped around his uncontrollable laughter, "l-let's go, fuck, Sehun, we need to leave."

  
They trailed after the group with lengthy, uneven steps. The street rose and fell as if it breathed, as if a heart beat under the epicenter of Greek row. Chi Omega's house grew further and further in his vision until it was tiny - the size of his pinky nail. Jongin opened the door and it swelled to normal size right in front of Sehun's eyes.

  
He tripped over the threshold of the door. The Pepero box slipped and exploded, sending sticks of chocolate flying all over the floor. A lost cause. Sehun ignored it and stumbled through the foyer.

  
Kyungsoo stood very still next to the hallway. As far away from the center of the room as possible. "Holy fuck," he said softly. He repeated it like a mantra, both hands holding his head. "Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck."

  
The statue rested in the middle of the living room. Baekhyun sat atop the wolf, knees bent and head down like a jockey at the start of a race. The fringe of his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He hiccupped occasionally. Chanyeol leaned close and started murmuring something to Baekhyun, but lost his gusto and collapsed into a fit of hysterical laughter. One giant hand came up to slap over his guffawing mouth. A smear of white foundation etched across the wolf's chest, its perpetrator unknown.

  
Somehow, someway, because he came from some ungodly universe, Tao had procured more alcohol. He lifted a bottle of vodka in greeting when they walked in, out of breath and exhilarated. He smiled. "We did it. We're legends. Kings. Stan Chi Omega."

  
"No one has ever stolen the school mascot before," Kyungsoo said, a little stupidly, "in 203 years."

  
Kyungsoo watched Chanyeol's knees buckle with mirth and, for a second, it seemed to Sehun that his eyes fell out of his head and rolled onto the floor.

  
Fuck, no, they were just marbles. Kyungsoo dropped silver marbles from a hidden pocket. They looked like eyeballs. Was that even real? He watched them loop endlessly together.

  
Sehun turned around. "I think I'm going to be sick," he announced, "where's the bathroom here?"

  
Someone groaned. He walked purposefully toward a door. He didn't know which, but there was a fucking door and that was good enough for him. Jongin halted his progress again with a hand on his shoulder. "You can't puke here," he said, a little panicked, "there's a rule against it."

  
"How do you know?"

  
"Junmyeon hyung is my brother, I have to know."

  
They walked outside, and Sehun thought about bubble tea before he puked. Several times. Right on the lawn, in plain view of anyone walking down the street or looking out a window. Again. Again. He didn't feel light anymore. He felt like a scraped bit of spoilt food left to rot.

  
Vaguely, he noted a pressure on his head.

  
"Don't touch my hair," he mumbled. "I'm fine."

  
"No, you're not."

  
"Who are you to say?"

  
"I've known you your entire life, Sehunnie. This is pretty bad," Jongin said. The pressure increased. "If I ever find out who did this, I swear I - "

  
"Ow."

  
"Sorry."

  
They sat in silence for a moment. Sehun leaned against the front of the house, exhausted and dim and inside out. Those words weren't right for humans, but he didn't feel entirely human right now. In a detached way, he was very proud that Baekhyun had taken his dare. It seemed to cheer him up.

  
He busied himself by picking up a leaf fallen from the tree next door. Brown, stained, ugly. It disintegrated with a satisfying crunch when he squeezed it in his palm. Sehun repeated this with a scattered bunch until he could feel his fingers again.

  
The last time he could remember being this close to fucked up was senior year of high school. He and Jongin were fighting - a rare, cataclysmic event - because one of them had hooked up with a pretty girl the other one liked, or something. He didn't remember. He remembered the soju, the waking up in his own garden half-hungover with the sun barely grazing the horizon. He remembered jumping into bed seconds before his mom opened the door to check on him, and then puking something green onto his own pillow.

  
And yet.

  
"This is the worst fucking trip ever," he said, and then puked one more time.

  
It took another ten minutes for Sehun to stand and walk back inside. The scene remained vaguely the same, except now Jongdae stood shell-shocked next to Kyungsoo with three bottles of water in hand. When the door closed behind them, everyone startled. Jongdae wordlessly handed Sehun a water bottle.

  
"Happy Halloween," Baekhyun said weakly.

  
Tao giggled. He was two shots into the bottle. Still, no one asked where it came from.

  
"... _let it go, let it go, can't hold it back anymoooore! Let it go, let it go, turn away and slam the d_ \- " Chanyeol fell over himself to answer the phone and silence his annoying as fuck ringtone. Sheepish, he hurried into the foyer to talk in an urgent whisper. _The fuck?_

  
Whatever. Sehun lowered himself to Baekhyun's eye level. "Hey," he said, "you still gotta take a selca with it. "

  
Baekhyun shot up. He sat ramrod straight, hands on the wolf's neck and mouth wide open. Sliding off, he swayed on his feet and gestured. "You true. Help me take it upstairs."

  
"Upstairs?" Jongdae's voice, two octaves higher than normal, sputtered out. "Baekhyun, no. You'll hurt yourself."

  
"Which is why you're gonna help."

  
"Baekhyun-ah - "

  
"I'm starting without you," he said in an obnoxious sing-song voice. Wrapping his arms around the hind legs of the wolf, he began to tug it towards the stairs. Every ounce of his earlier energy had been sapped. Both arms trembled under the exertion.

  
Sehun leapt forward to help by pushing the head and muzzle. Well, he'd gotten them into this mess, hadn't he? Might as well finish it so they could return the thing as soon as possible. A dumbfounded Jongdae grabbed on as well, and they took it halfway up the stairs before setting it down to rest.

  
"Holy hell," Sehun rolled out his shoulders. "How did you get this all the way down the street by yourself?"

  
"I'm the Energizer bunny," Baekhyun said, and Jongdae snorted.

  
"Let's go again," Sehun said, and they prepared themselves to lift once more.

  
Right before they set off upstairs, Chanyeol's thumping footsteps followed them. An entire chunk of his hair stood straight up, as if he'd tried to run a hand through it and got stuck. Wild dark eyes. He resembled a crazy scientist more than the Joker now.

  
"Wait," he said, "don't move. Luhan's coming and he's pissed."

  
After a few seconds of urgent ping pong arguments, Kyungsoo and Jongin joined them on the staircase and everything devolved into chaos.

  
"How much time do we have?"

  
"It doesn't matter! He said someone called and told him his pledges were puking all the way up Greek row, he's already gonna kill us - "

  
"Baekhyun's not even a pledge. That's not fair."

  
"Do you think he called and interrupted Junmyeon hyung's seminar? What the fuck do we do with this?"

  
"I'm a wolf, I'm a wolf, ah-rooooo - "

  
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, I hear the door!"

  
"..."

  
A low creak. The sound of the house shifting, likely preparing itself for the coming storm. The door opened. Tao mysteriously vanished. Kyungsoo's alien mask snapped and fell from where it hung around his neck. Jongin caught it before it hit the ground.

  
Oh, fuck. Ohhhh, fuck. Sehun couldn't think vertically enough for this. He needed to be horizontal. Like, twenty seconds ago. Everyone held their breath in terrible trepidation and he desperately slapped his own forehead to avoid descending into the folds of time and space.

  
Luhan. Yelling. Prison, selca, Kyungsoo hyung speaking very slowly, and then - Baekhyun puked all over his mighty stead, the pride and joy of their esteemed university, the emblem of every students' dreams. Soiled beyond repair. The myriad of colored lights returned to flicker on, off, on, off in his peripherals. A rainbow strobe light.

  
Oh.

  
All that was left of Sehun was bones and tight skin. No substance, not enough to keep him grounded. Maybe he would float, now that he was hollow, like an air wisp prepared to hitchhike along the fields of Korea forever and ever and ever and ever...

  
The colors pulsed once, twice. Sehun's vision tunneled. He fell into the wolf's warm fur. Then nothing.

 

  
When Sehun next became aware of his body, he was warm and comfortable. Something soft tickled his chin. The light against his eyes, just barely creaking open, ached in a pleasantly alive way. A wooden board ceiling. A keyboard in the corner, miscellaneous sheet music, and an upturned piano bench with a smudged cello balanced against it. In the corner sat a luxuriously full drum set.

  
Oh. He was currently lying on the black couch in the basement practice room. Jongin sighed against Sehun's collarbone and a flop of his hair tickled Sehun's chin again. Oh.

  
It hurt to move his eyes, but he searched the room for a clock. What the fuck. The last thing he remembered was - the wolf statue? No. Luhan's horrified face, his fists at his side. I'm going to be depledged, he thought, and twitched in involuntary panic. I fucked up, someone drugged me, and now they're gonna drop me. I'll never get into a dance company now.

  
The only thing that could make this situation worse: Sehun's lower lip wobbled. His head hurt so bad. A mounting tsunami of stress pounded back and forth, waves of worry, cracking against his forehead and his spine. Repeat. His eyes started to burn with the effort of trying to subside tears.

  
Tiny tremors in his chest had Jongin stirring. Sehun sniffed once, a finalized ordeal, and lolled his head back to stare at the ceiling.

  
Jongin slowly extracted his legs from the cavity behind Sehun's knees. They both wore unfamiliar gray sweatpants, and Sehun still sported his tank top from last night, punch stain and all. Jongin's hair finally slipped away and ceased the tickle.

  
"Hey," Jongin said, quiet and still too loud, "Hey, how are you feeling?"

  
"Fine."

  
A rustling. Jongin reached over the side of the couch and Sehun looked up to see a large water bottle, unopened. "Have some water."

  
"Thanks," he mumbled, and took it. He didn't deserve Jongin sometimes. He didn't understand why Chi Omega had allowed him to even crash in their house after what he'd done - to Baekhyun, too, oh my god. Everything that happened last night was his fault. It felt so rushed and grainy. Likely, he'd forgotten parts of last night altogether. There was no way to know all the shit he pulled.

  
Finally, Sehun shifted his weight and felt the unmistakable rectangular shape of his phone against his shoulder. He fumbled around and pressed the home button. _1:38 pm. Missed Call Junmyeon (3). Missed call Kyungsooooooo (1). Missed call Nini <3 (1)_.

  
Fuck. The light of his phone stirred something ugly and nauseating in his stomach. This was the worst hangover ever. He rubbed fiercely at his sleep-sticky face.

  
"Sorry," Sehun mumbled. "You didn't have to stay with me. I'm gonna go before they kick me out."

  
"Kick you out?"

  
"Until Junmyeon hyung comes back to depledge me, probably. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to - to disrespect your hyung, or anything. I really like it here - "

  
"Sehun, what are talking about? They're not going to depledge you?" Jongin shifted upright. Their hips were still smashed side-by-side together, and Jongin propped himself with an elbow on Sehun's shoulder. His sleep-puffy eyes narrowed. "You didn't break any rules."

  
There was no response to this. Of course he'd broken rules. He tried to coerce Chanyeol into breaking open the liquor cabinet (in hindsight, the worst plan ever), he urged the brothers to go house-hopping on a holiday, he pressured Baekhyun into doing something stupid and illegal and dangerous, and then he puked on the immaculate lawn.

  
"But - "

  
"You know it's not your fault, right? Getting drugged was not your fault. There is nothing to apologize for."

  
The sincerity, the emphatic tone of Jongin's voice, stilled something awful in Sehun. The roar in his head quieted for a moment. He couldn't even remember the face of the girl who gave it to him. Just pigtails. The helplessness he'd felt upon first waking came bubbling back like a rising tide. He still put himself in that position. He couldn't remember who'd suggested that house, or which house it was, but -

  
Sehun's lower lip trembled and thinned.

  
"Stop," Jongin whispered, and his hand slid up to comb through Sehun's fringe.

  
"Don't touch my hair," he said weakly, but when Jongin moved he grabbed his hand and returned it to his head. The stroking resumed. Sehun felt softer.

  
They sat on the couch. He cried a little bit, drank the entire bottle of water in four seconds, and tried to stand up. Regardless of what Jongin said, the shame was too heavy to bear in this house right now. He needed to get out.

  
Gravity's insatiable pull. It was difficult to stand, to walk out of the room, to place a hand on the railing. Sehun looked at the open room opposite the staircase. Both beds looked empty. "How's Baekhyun?"

  
"He's okay. I heard them leave about an hour ago."

  
Good. He stepped up the stairs, shaky and light-headed. Jongin followed right behind. Fuck this. Sehun had made an ass of himself so much already this weekend, he wasn't about to fall down the stairs as well. The bottom floor was equally as quiet. Still. They retrieved their shoes from the foyer and dipped out into the bright, serene afternoon. A brisk breeze snipped at Sehun's face, and he automatically felt better.

  
Jongin typed away on his phone. Probably updating Junmyeon and Luhan as to their disappearance. "Let's go back to your dorm," he leaned into Sehun's shoulder gently as they walked. "I need a shower so bad."

  
"Same."

  
"Whatever they had at Sigma Delta, that cotton candy wine stuff - "

  
"Oh, god. I forgot about that. It was horrible."

  
"Bet it was even worse the second time."

  
"Did I - " Sehun stumbled off the curb crossing out of Greek row. "Did I even puke? I don't remember."

  
"Yeah, after you called me pretty."

  
Shit. He wasn't even surprised. He summoned a last sparking reserve of energy to shove Jongin into a bush. "That didn't happen."

  
Jongin laughed, his eyes turned up at the corners, and the day reoriented itself.

 

* * *

 

  
  
_160711, BASEMENT_

  
"I have a melody," Chanyeol said, "but no lyrics yet."

  
He tapped a beat onto his desk with a pen. The guitar sat snug around his shoulders, and he tugged absentmindedly at the bottom E string. Perfectly in tune. Kyungsoo sat against the headboard, fiddling with a tablet. More and more often he would slip into the basement with an excuse - "I'm making tea, do you want any?" "Baekhyun and Jongdae are too loud, do you mind if I watch a movie down here?" "I need to use your acoustics." - and curl into Chanyeol's pillows like he belonged there.

  
Even when Chanyeol was engrossed in his work, the interruption was never a bother. He and Kyungsoo shared the most similar taste in music. Where Baekhyun and Jongdae preferred pop ballads, they grooved to R &B, hip hop, acoustic covers, and the occasional heavy rap jam.

  
Plus, Kyungsoo never held back. He always offered a deadpan, honest opinion. Whatever precious chord progression or verse Chanyeol built could only be improved by Kyungsoo's immaculate ear.

  
"Play it," Kyungsoo said, finally setting the tablet on the floor and directing his full, wide-eyed attention to the guitar.

  
Obligingly, Chanyeol strummed a few chords he'd worked with at the studio. He hardly had a free second to think for himself while working, but he spent every lunch break exploiting his access to the equipment. Ancient electric guitars, a custom-made drumset, and state-of-the-art mics. A damn dream come true.

  
Obviously he didn't have the same resources here, but Chanyeol hit the chorus hard, straining his fingers and trying to reach the same effect. "Give me a beat," he nodded to Kyungsoo, "you'll hear it."

  
Kyungsoo's eyebrows drew together. His most serious and concentrating face. He watched Chanyeol's fingers dart up, down, up, down, and he slipped into the rhythm without a hitch. So much better. The upbeat melody curled and dipped in harmony with the beatboxing. Neither led and neither trailed. The sounds intertwined.

  
It felt incredible. Chanyeol couldn't keep the stupid, huge grin away. To think that he created this sound from nothing! When the song trailed off, he slowed his pace and repeated the beginning chords. Kyungsoo trickled away. It came to a slow halt, anticlimactic, but they were both out of breath.

  
Kyungsoo's thin shoulders rose and fell rapidly. His smile ghosted - the tiny, imperceptible one, the smile that blossomed in his eyes before his mouth, the secret he saved for quiet moments and interludes. Still, so bright it almost hurt.

  
That itch in the back of Chanyeol's head started... and started... and started...

  
"Hold on," he said, jerking backwards to grab his pen. He scribbled words onto a scrap paper. Flyaway lyric notes, to be reviewed later, in the aftertaste of this feeling. In his haste, Chanyeol pressed too hard on the pen. The tip shattered and black ink spilled everywhere - over his knuckles, down his palm, into the paper and desk and onto the carpet -

  
That did it. Kyungsoo laughed.

  
"Oh shit," Chanyeol said absently.

  
"I'll get paper towels."

  
"Thanks, Kyungsoo-yahhh. You're the best, Kyungsoo-yah. Ah, don't get ink on your sweater - "

  
"Shut up," Kyungsoo said helpfully. He swiped at Chanyeol's hand with a wadded towel, smearing the ink along his wrist. They mopped together and managed to salvage the scrap of paper.

  
When Chanyeol tossed the towel into the trash (slam dunk, came Baekhyun's obnoxious cheer in his head) he turned to see Kyungsoo holding the paper and reading around ink splotches. Chanyeol inhaled sharply. "What are you doing?"

  
"Did you write this just now?"

  
"Yeah."

  
"It's - " and here he faltered. Stared at the paper. "It's great."

  
Heat rolled up from Chanyeol's stomach. He ducked his head so the blush wouldn't be visible and snatched the paper back. _half-beautiful faces in the crowd_ , it read, _your smile was someone else's home first_. Scattered thoughts, unborn lyrics. Not fit for anyone to see. And yet, Kyungsoo looked.

  
"Will you sing it for me?"

  
Kyungsoo blinked. "What?"

  
"When I produce it," Chanyeol said, "will you do the vocals?"

  
Kyungsoo settled onto the edge of the bed. His hands absently swallowed a squishy blue throw pillow. His lips parted, but it took a moment for the words to come. "Are you sure you don't want to ask Baekhyun? Jongdae?"

  
The guitar strap slipped off his shoulder. Chanyeol carefully set it against the wall, then stood and fell into the bed beside Kyungsoo. His legs stuck out awkwardly and his green socks brushed Kyungsoo's thigh. A car drove down Greek row. Its headlights momentarily flashed through the top windows into the dim basement.

  
"No," he said. "I'm asking you. I want you to do it."

  
"Why?"

  
Chanyeol prodded Kyungsoo with his foot. "Because you're a vocal performance major, that's fucking why."

  
"So are three other people in this house alone. The program is at least seventy people big, not counting graduate students in the MFA department - "

  
"Yeah, but _you're_ my best friend."

  
The words slipped out. Chanyeol tensed. It was give or take, sometimes, and he never hid his blatant displays of affection for Kyungsoo - because it was true, anyway - but Kyungsoo's reactions could go hot or cold depending on the situation. Russian roulette with feelings rather than a gun. Shaky ground.

  
Kyungsoo leaned back and laid down next to Chanyeol on the bed. He kept the pillow over his stomach and blinked at the ceiling. Chanyeol watched his eyelashes move.  
"You're my best friend, too," he finally said, and then added, "but only when you're not talking."

  
Kyungsoo moved quickly. In one second he flipped over, leapt atop Chanyeol, and smacked the pillow over his face. Chanyeol's entire world narrowed to blue fabric and a tangle of limbs. He choked on the pillow and laughed with no air.

  
He bucked. He kicked. He squirmed. Theoretically, with his long arms and large hands, Chanyeol should be able to overpower Kyungsoo easily. But the weight on his chest and thighs pressed him into the blankets mercilessly. Kyungsoo's breathless laugh betrayed how easy he found the struggle.

  
Eventually they rolled apart, laughing, and kicked each other several times for good measure. Sometime during the struggling rush, the paper fluttered under the bed. Soft conversation. They fell asleep like that. Sprawled over the blankets, legs pressed together, lamplight casting long shadows from the corner.

  
(Much later, in the dredges of winter, Chanyeol found those lyrics again. When he snagged the slip and tugged it from underneath a peeling pair of black sandals, he had to crouch on his knees to keep his balance. Everything shifted. An unfamiliar line was scratched underneath his notes in neat print. _Take all this and sunlight, too, from me._

  
Something terrible must have happened to his face, then, because Baekhyun's quiet humming trailed off. "You okay?"

  
"Yeah," Chanyeol immediately quipped. "Fine."

  
The words rolled around, thick, in his head. Heavy with warmth. He crumpled the paper in one fist and picked up his guitar.)

 

* * *

 

  
_161611, KIM HOUSEHOLD_

  
For the first time in several years, both of the Kim brothers were home for a long weekend.

  
It was nice. Jongin hugged his parents, hugged his dog, and hugged his hyung once for sneaking him a glass of wine from the table. They gathered together and laughed. Both parents were eager for stories of their time at school.

  
"Jongin is always at the house," Junymeon commented after dinner. "We see each other frequently."

  
Their mother paused. "At the house?"

  
An awkward pause. Jongin tried fitfully to sink into his seat.

  
"He didn't tell you?" Junmyeon asked, glancing at him, "Jongin's rushing Chi Omega."

  
The worst part was? His parents were proud. He physically saw his father's shoulders rise with interest. "Two sons in the most prestigious music frat in Seoul," he said, "Congratulations, Jongin. I'm not surprised."

  
The conversation shifted naturally. Jongin was so thankful he didn't need to comment - everyone would see through his faux interest, his half-hearted answers. Truthfully, he still wasn't sure about Chi Omega. The people were much better than he expected - especially Kyungsoo - but the memory of his first frat trip haunted him.

  
Jongin toured the campus his junior year. Instead of sleeping overnight in one of the "prospective student" dorms advertised, he elected to call his hyung. Junmyeon was thrilled. He mentioned off-hand that his frat was hosting a party that night, but _it should be fine, you'll love it here_.

  
He didn't love it.

  
He walked in the door and nearly toppled backwards under the heavy, humid air. It reeked of booze, the slea

zy, cheap kind he was only beginning to distinguish. A massive crush of people blocked the end of the foyer. Where was Junmyeon? He said he would meet him in front of the house ten minutes ago...  
Jongin carefully stepped forward, eyeing a pristine chandelier above him, and tapped the closest guy on the back.

  
Oh, fuck.

  
The guy turned around. He hulked over Jongin, a towering mass of eyebrows and obnoxious earrings. His mouth curved downwards. "What?"

  
"D-do you know where Kim Junmyeon is?"

  
Now he had the guy's attention. He bent lower to better hear Jongin's cracking voice over a distant, pounding bass. The press of his tank top smelled like something sweet - smoke from a vape? Fervently, Jongin hoped this looming, mountainous stranger was stone-cold sober. He needed him to be sober. He needed a guide.

  
"Who are you?" The guy asked.

  
"Kim Jongin. I'm his brother."

  
The guy set his cup on a nearby table. He pushed aside a decorative vase to do so. "Wait here. I'll get him. Don't move."

  
Before Jongin could protest, the stranger dove into the crowd and disappeared. Jongin was left lingering on the edges of the party, already sweating and irritated. Most of these kids didn't look much older than him - but they were. 100% chance he was the only underage person in the room. Couples swayed to the music, groups passed around communal cups and laughed, laughed, laughed. Jongin leaned against the wall and tried to ignore his tired muscles, aching after a long day of hiking around campus.

  
He closed his eyes.

  
"Dude," someone yelled. "You okay?"

  
Jongin's head snapped up. Some asshole in a muscle tee had his arm slung around a tiny girl with purple streaks. They had broken away from the mass and started to stumble toward the door.

  
"Yeah," Jongin said.

  
"You look beat," Muscle Tee said, "head outside, get some fresh air. That's where we're heading."

  
The girl said nothing. Jongin looked at her. A sheen of sweat glittered on her forehead. His eyes dropped to her hands, trembling around her red cup. "Don't worry about me," he said, "is she okay?"

  
Everything slowed down. The girl nodded and opened her mouth to say - something, but they would never know, because someone bumped her from behind and she dropped her cup. The sallow, yellow liquid splashed outwards and upwards, straight into Jongin's chest and all over his shirt.

  
Time trickled a little slower. His arms hung straight down, liquid dripping from both sleeves. He resisted a sudden shiver. A waterfall of apologies started streaming from the girl's mouth, but the guy quickly shuffled her outside and left Jongin relatively alone and miserable.

  
The stench of his own body made him nauseated.

  
Where was Junmyeon?

  
Jongin desperately inched to the edge of the crowd, stepping around a group of (very pretty) girls chatting about the newest episode of a drama. He scanned face after face. No one he even recognized from his hyung's Facebook profile. Not that he ever looked too hard. Maybe he should've paid more attention.

  
Someone slammed a door somewhere, and an thick jet of smoke carried over the crowd. Jongin coughed on the sudden influx of distinctive weed-smell. He coughed again.

  
Before he knew what was happening, a girl had grabbed him by the shoulder and knocked him up against a wall. Her wide blue contacts glittered. Unnaturally luminous.

  
"You're not having fun," she said loudly, "do you want some?"

  
Then she waved a six-inch blunt under Jongin's nose.

  
_Oh my God_ , he thought distantly, _I'm about to be jailed for spending one night in Junmyeon's frat_.

  
"No thanks," he said, politely nudging her arm away. She really was pretty, with short hair and curling lips, but Jongin ducked around her and made a beeline for the staircase. The carpet at the bottom sported a pink, shoe-shaped stain. Classy.

  
"Jongin-ah!"

  
On the third step he whipped around. Below, wading through the crowd, Junmyeon's waving hand caught his eye. The enormous eyebrow dude from earlier followed in his wake.

  
"I'm sorry," Junmyeon said as soon as he reached him. "I couldn't meet you outside, Jinki slipped while trying to mop up ramen remnants - or something - what happened to your shirt? Here, you can borrow one of mine, let me show you around!"

  
Jongin rubbed his eyes. "S'okay," he mumbled.

  
But Junmyeon already wasn't listening anymore. Standing on the third step of the staircase, he turned to face Eyebrows. They were eye-to-eye. Jongin thought he caught his brother take a deep breath before he said, "Thanks, Kris. You didn't have to."

  
Eyebrows didn't look away. It was a strangely intense staring competition that Jongin tried really hard to ignore. With a tiny nod, Eyebrows turned and melted back into the crowd.

  
The brothers escaped upstairs. Jongin took a shower, changed, and collapsed into Junmyeon's bed.

  
That was the first impression Chi Omega made, and that was the day Jongin lost any sprouting interest in his older brother's affairs. Junmyeon could do what he wanted. No judgment. But if Jongin had any say in the matter, he wouldn't end up like that, in a place like that, surrounded by people like that.

  
A "professional" frat. Right.

 

* * *

 

  
_162411, SECOND FLOOR_

  
The doorbell rang just past noon on a Tuesday.

  
Baekhyun, in the midst of skipping his chemistry recitation, clicked out of League. He sat very still. Maybe he imagined the sound. Careful not to jostle a sleeping Jongdae, he adjusted ratty gray sweatpants. An abandoned theory workbook slid off the blankets and thumped onto the carpet.

  
_Ding dong._

  
Well, shitfuck. No one else was home.

  
Baekhyun shimmied out from underneath his laptop and comforters. Where Jongdae's legs pressed against his, he peeled back gently. Extricating himself from the bed was like untangling three octopi and a pair of headphones after thirty seconds in a pocket.

  
With one finger, he moved the curtains. Two men in button-ups stood on the stoop. They squinted at the front of the house. One scribbled in a notebook, as if taking notes or memorizing the condition of the stucco -

  
"Shit," Baekhyun dove away from the window when one of the guys looked straight up at him. "Jongdae, wake up. Get up."

  
"Mm?"

  
"The inspectors are here."

  
"Mmmm?" Jongdae stretched. One of his hands reached out, petulant, and wrapped in the hem of Baekhyun's shirt. He tugged and Baekhyun toppled onto his torso. Elbows tangled, lungs momentarily were crushed, and hands fumbled together. Baekhyun whined.

  
Jongdae nestled his chin on the fluff of Baekhyun's hair. "Let someone else get it."

  
"We're the only ones home."

  
"Mmm. No one knows that. We could be out. They'll come back later if it's important."

  
"They're probably here to fix the crack in Yixing's room," Baekhyun said. For once, he was trying to be responsible. What if the inspectors only had one free hour all week? What if they didn't return until next semester?

  
Worse, what if they found something else structurally wrong with the house and evicted everyone in the fraternity to fix it? He pressed his nose to Jongdae's collarbone. Flashing images of his brothers, cold and homeless, shivering in rags, ballooned dramatically behind his eyelids. He wasn't equipped to handle those situations. He was equipped to handle accidentally walking in on fuckfests featuring Chanyeol's ungodly nipples. No one heard the door open at the top of the stairs, and no one noticed when he ran like hell and couldn't meet Kyungsoo's eyes for two days. That? That he was made to handle.

  
Jongdae's eyes cracked open. "Are you even allowed to represent Chi Omega to them? Are you considered a full member yet?"

  
Oh. There was that. Baekhyun was glad Jongdae couldn't see his face at this angle, because he unintentionally cringed. That was a topic he didn't like to think about. Everyone else had declared their majors 0.2 seconds after stepping inside the house. He couldn't do that.

  
He let silence sprout while he thought about how to respond. "I've already made up my mind," he said carefully, one absent finger tracing up Jongdae's neck, "but I don't want to talk about it. Not everyone will be happy with my decision."

  
"Are you happy with your decision?"

  
"Sometimes yes," he admitted. "Sometimes no."

  
"Then it doesn't matter. Figure out what you want first, forget everyone else. Even your family. I know they're paying your tuition, Baek, but they don't own your soul. Repay every cent when you're successful in whatever field you pursue."

  
Baekhyun blinked. He slid his arm up and propped up his chin to look down at Jongdae. Like the devilish little troll he was, he waggled his eyebrows. A tongue darted out to wet his lips. Fucking delectable.

  
"It's not that easy, Jongdae-ah," he said, and his voice hitched lower, "but thanks for the advice. How will I ever repay you?"

  
The kitten grin reappeared. Jongdae's sleep-puffy eyes crinkled. Impish, he wriggled onto his side and faced Baekhyun head on. "I can think of a few ways," he whispered, and the ignored doorbell was forgotten under muffled laughter and warm skin.

 

* * *

 

  
  
_161412_

  
unicorn zhang  
_pledges, please get to the house at 10 tonight_  
_crossing ceremony!!! are you ready?_

  
baekhyun  
_TT-TT_  
_they grow up so fast_  
_babies are all fully grown now, ready to adult_

  
taozi  
_(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧_

  
baekhyun  
_nvm what was i saying_

  
unicorn zhang  
_don't forget it's formal attire_  
_and bring the instruments you've been practicing with_  
_see you tonight!!_

 

* * *

 

_161412, FRONT LAWN_

  
"No."

  
"Please?"

  
"No."

  
"It's the last pledge day," Tao said, "and you're going to regret not commemorating this moment. It's a milestone. We survived the first semester of college. All the new faces, homework, bullshit frat acrobatics, Hallowen... even that time Luhan cut the electricity just to mess with us. Or when you went viral dancing to _Gangnam Style_. "

  
"Shut up, fine," Sehun squinted up at the sallow streetlight. "but the lighting's shitty. Hurry up before we're late."

  
Jongin snorted. "What, like they'd depledge us now?"

  
The three freshmen shuffled together on the sidewalk, stepping carefully around a pile of muddy discarded snow. Tao tilted his phone up and pursed his lips like a reality TV queen. Snap, tongue out, snap, peace sign, snap. Three idiotic faces for three selcas for three freshmen.

  
This was Jongin's very last chance to bow out. He could cite extracurriculars as more important, or academics, or the part-time job he had yet to find. But the slimy image of Chi Omega he held onto for so long was simply nonexistent now. Still, the hesitation. Sehun, as if reading his mind, slung one casual arm over his shoulders.

  
"Walk willingly into hell," he advised, and marched them up the porch steps.

  
Tao knocked. 10 P.M. on the dot. Jongin squeezed the head joint of his flute. It felt thin, dainty, easily breakable. A chilled breeze snuck under the fold of his red tie and he trembled. Through the dark fabric separating them, he felt Sehun do the same.

  
The door creaked open.

  
"Hey," Jongdae said, and all three melted in relief. Of all the brothers who could have been sent, thank fuck. Jongdae smiled, a kitten grin, and stepped aside. "Come on in."

  
The foyer was dark. Actually, the whole house was dark. No light splintered from the living room, as accustomed, and the flickering foyer lamp was unlit. As they moved inside and shrugged off outerwear jackets, their shadows coalesced until even the long shapes cast by the faraway streetlight disappeared.

  
Jongdae slammed the door. They descended into pitch black darkness.

  
Tao screamed. There was a loud rustle of fabric, then Jongin felt a heavy weight land on his feet. He jumped back, unintentionally squeaking like a twelve-year-old girl, and blindly scrabbled for purchase on the wall. His heart pounded in his ears and he blinked wildly, trying to adjust.

  
There was a tiny thump that sounded suspiciously like Sehun's harmonica hitting the ground. Jongin pressed his flute into his jacket pocket protectively. The dark seemed to move and pulsate with his raging heart.

  
"Stop freaking out," Sehun hissed, but his high and lilting voice betrayed his anxiety. The sounds of struggle petered out until it was just three sets of heavy breathing. "What happened? Where's Jongdae?"

  
"I don't know - where's the light switch - "

  
"It's unplugged," Tao moaned in horror. "I just tried the lamp. It's unplugged."

  
"Fuck," Sehun whispered. "Fuck."

  
Jongin took a deep breath. He placed his hand firmly on the wall and walked forward. Eventually, he would reach the end of the foyer and branch into the living room. There was another light switch at the corner. "Don't panic," he said.

  
"Oh, I don't know about that," someone said, and Tao screamed again. Jongin startled so bad he nearly lost his balance and fell into the void. His breathing accelerated. Whose voice was that? It should be easy, they spent all semester together. Who the fuck?

  
Muffled laughter. The voice spoke again, "Welcome to your initiation, pledges. First task: locate your brothers. We're hiding throughout the house. You have one hour. However many brothers you fail to find within that time is how many punishments you'll have to endure."

  
Luhan. That was Luhan's voice, drifting somewhere to the left. Jongin ignored his hummingbird heart and closed his eyes. Forget vision. He could see anyway. The foyer spread out in front of him, painted fuzzy with the touch of memory, and he estimated his position on the wall. Practically at the junction of the living room.

  
Without pausing to fear for his safety or well-being, Jongin lunged.

  
His hand slammed into something soft. An ungracious "OOF!" escaped the air in front of him and he toppled arm-first into someone's chest. They hit the opposite wall with a dull thud. Jongin's hands immediately came up to catch the person. He felt thin shoulders, bare arms, and small hands. Definitely Luhan.

  
"What happened?" Sehun whispered.

  
"You little cheat," Luhan said, and his voice came from right in front of Jongin's face.

  
He grinned. "Gotcha. One down, seven to go."

  
Another scuffle echoed from behind them. "My phone's dead," Tao said distantly. "I can't even use the flashlight. It was fully charged ten minutes ago, how - "

  
"Don't question it," Luhan said. "Just accept your fate."

  
Jongin felt for his cell in his suit pocket. Blank. All of their phones were somehow dead. Inexplicable and, honestly, impressive. Jongin didn't know the riffraff in Chi Omega could pull this kind of intimidation off. He shoved the useless device back in his pocket.

  
They moved through the house slowly, carefully, systematically. Luhan trailed as their sullen first prisoner. His gleeful clapping when they stumbled over Minseok (half-heartedly tucked into a corner of the kitchen) kept him occupied, and they whispered amicably in the back.

  
Jongin tried to block out all of his other senses. Nothing mattered except hearing and feeling. He, Sehun, and Tao each grabbed one hand and moved through the house as one being.  
"Kick under the table. It's on the right somewhere."

  
"Tao, did you check on the counter?"

  
"What about the cabinets?"

  
"None of the cabinets are big enough," Jongin started to say, and then stopped. "Well, one of them is."

  
"The liquor cabinet?" Sehun hissed. His hand unintentionally squeezed. "We're not allowed in there."

  
Luhan and Minseok, behind them, went quiet. No noises except quiet breathing and a distant, wooden creak of floorboards. The air felt still. It smelled faintly like spaghetti sauce and cookies. Typical fraternity kitchen.

  
"Check it anyway," he whispered.

  
Sehun moved eagerly at his side. The warmth of his hand disappeared, and two tentative steps later there was the sound of swinging hinges. A short pause. Then, "SHITFUCK DAMN IT! NO!"

  
Something toppled out of the cabinet and hit the ground hard. Sehun's shoe scuffed as he moved, and he found Jongin's hand again the darkness.

  
"Hyung," Sehun complained, "that was my foot."

  
"What the fuck. Shut up. I'm so pissed. Why'd you have to fucking look there? I owe Chanyeol 30 000 won," a pitiful voice said from below. Loud with a touch of nasal tones. Definitely Baekhyun.

  
They giggled, Jongin reached out to pinch what he hoped was Baekhyun's shoulder, and the quest continued. Traipsing around the first floor took about twenty more minutes. No one hid in the living room, or down the hall in the open bedroom, or in the foyer (they double-checked).

  
Basement next, or the second floor?

  
Tao wanted down. Sehun wanted up. Jongin didn't care. They didn't have time to scissors-paper-rock, so Jongin sided with down first and they stumbled to the basement steps.

  
"Don't fall," Luhan instructed. "We'll wait up here."

  
They slaughtered the basement quickly.

  
The top windows were also boarded up to deflect light from the street. Tao jumped on Baekhyun's bed and squished Chanyeol. They toppled, laughing and shouting, onto the floor. After a long pause of rustling fabric and loud steps along the carpet, silence fell.

  
"I don't think anyone else is in here," Jongin said, and then someone sneezed. Someone sneezed. The room froze. Sehun kicked something soft under the opposite bed, and a disgruntled "ow" trickled out.

  
New prisoners Jongdae and Chanyeol in tow, they returned victorious to the top of the stairs. The captured brothers congregated with muffled pats on the back and lots of confused arm squeezing. (Amidst the quiet chaos, Jongin was pretty sure he hear Baekhyun say _the only payment you're getting is the privilege to kiss my ass you twinkfuck_ ). Luhan vowed to wait at the basement door while Jongin led Sehun and Tao upstairs.

  
 Three more left.

  
Yixing fell giggling out of the shower, Jongin accidentally slapped his hand on Kyungsoo as he lay perched atop the washer and dryer... but Junmyeon. Nowhere to be seen. They tore apart the bedroom, the laundry room, the bathroom, the hallway, the storage closet...

  
They were running out of time.

  
"Maybe he's on the third floor," Sehun whispered. They huddled together, Jongin's arm around Sehun's waist and Tao's hair tickling both their chins. They were so close Jongin could smell mint on Sehun's mouth.

  
"We're not allowed up there, either," Tao pointed out.

  
"That's the point. We've never seen the third floor. Junmyeon hyung is testing us."

  
"There's no time. If we're gonna check it, we have to go now."

  
"Let's move," Jongin said, and they did.

  
They shuffled down the second floor hallway. At the end, where normally a wide paned window would welcome moonlight and moths, they skimmed fingers along a boarded-up wall. A cool wooden railing. Soft carpet over stairway steps. Never before had a freshman dared to step so close.

  
They climbed slowly. Jongin knew time ticked away, but the trepidation mounted far higher than for a simple liquor cabinet - this was an entire hemisphere of the house uncharted, a mystery aside from creaking floorboards and snapping pipes late at night.

  
A terrible thought struck Jongin: What if his hyung hid on the roof?

  
No. No, that was just cruel. He banished away the image of Junmyeon lounging above his window, feet dangling towards the pillars below.

  
The air felt colder. Carpet extended along the floor. Tao jerked and hit his elbow against the wall. A dull thud that Jongin and Sehun both jumped at. "Shh," Sehun whispered.

  
A door. They stumbled over the threshold onto tile - a bathroom. They felt along a countertop, inside a large combined shower/bathtub, in a towel cupboard. Nothing.

  
Someone cussed quietly behind him. "Faster," Tao said.

  
They stuck out their arms more forcefully now. A metallic clang echoed from the doorway, and Tao giggled a little hysterically. Beyond the bathroom there was another door, a bedroom it felt like: a soft chair, smooth headboard, the familiar slice of a laptop. Jongin's hands skirted around the door of what might be a closet. He tugged it open. Inside, soft clothing. Down, soft clothing -

  
He felt it move.

  
"HERE!" He shouted, burying his hands in the soft fabric and pulling. "GOT HIM!"

  
A breathless laugh. Jongin threw his arms around the warm shape and knew immediately that it was his hyung - Junmyeon smelled like pineapple soap, blankets, and childhood. Junmyeon squeezed him back just as tight and they laughed together in the impenetrable darkness. Someone banged into the wall loudly on the other side of the room.

  
"We're done," Sehun said, sounding almost weak with relief, "Junmyeon hyung, will you turn the lights back on?"

  
"Not yet," Junmyeon said, pushing Jongin gently toward what must be the door, "let's meet everyone downstairs first. Good job, boys, you hit 55 minutes. No punishments yet."

  
Everyone reconvened in the living room. The tight, hushed atmosphere faded with the return of the lights, which Yixing fixed by tinkering with the main power in the backyard. The older brothers hugged the pledges, ruffled their hair, and brushed off their suits appreciatively. Swelling chatter replaced the discomfiting silence from earlier.

  
That wasn't bad, Jongin thought. Stumbling around in a dark house tripping over the other pledges? He hadn't even screamed. A piece of cake.

  
Then Yixing opened the back door, and Jongin turned around.

  
The dining room table was covered in a black silk tablecloth. Twelve red cups sat lined up in the middle of the table, each full of some unidentifiable liquid. Now that his pitiful, ravaged eyes adjusted to the standard light for humans to live by, he noticed that each of the brothers wore similar, plain black clothing.

  
It wasn't over.

  
As Kyungsoo pulled him into a tight hug, Jongin leaned down to whisper, "What's coming?"

  
"Go in reverse order," Kyungsoo said, low and quiet against his ear.

  
They broke apart and looked at each other for a heartbeat longer than necessary - Jongin wanted to pull him back and hiss _what are you kidding me?! -_ but Junmyeon cleared his throat from the head of the table. He stood with a slip of paper in front of him, hands clasped together like a church boy. His immaculate hair stuck up in the back.

  
"Pledges," he began in that commanding, presidential, older-brother voice. Jongin had listened to that voice since birth. "Congratulations on completing the first task. We now ask that you stand in front of your respective line of cups."

  
Sehun immediately strolled to the right line. A chicken scratch barely legible as OSH adorned the first cup. Something blue and bubbly. KJI was next, with his first cup disturbingly clear, then HZT.  
The temptation to lean down and sniff his first cup was almost overwhelming. He just barely held himself back from it, though Tao's lip curled up when he got a good look at the contents of his initial obstacle.

  
"What are we supposed to do?" Tao asked, looking first at Yixing for help.

  
Yixing blinked very slowly, then smiled. He rubbed the soft fabric of his own shirt and winked at his little. Blissfully slow.

  
The brothers quieted their chattering. Anticipatory silence spread thick. Junmyeon relished his words, "You will recall that we asked you to learn a new instrument throughout this pledge process, one you had no experience with beforehand. You must finish each drink in your line before you can start your practical exam. You have until 3 A.M. to pass."

  
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck no.

  
Horror. Absolute, unforgiveable, crashing horror. Jongin could barely manipulate the keys of a flute with every ounce of concentration - he couldn't pass with four mixed drinks slamming into his liver. This was cruel. This was objectionable. This was exactly what he dreaded, what he expected from the beginning with Chi Omega.

  
Jongdae slipped into the room holding the abandoned instruments - Sehun's harmonica and Tao's ukelele. Instinctually Jongin's hand went to his flute, still tucked away. Safe.

  
The rest of the frat mulled about and began to take seats for the show. Some congregated at the edge of the table for a front-row view. What a barbaric ritual. The cups loomed larger and larger the longer he looked. Tao fiddled with the strings of his uke and didn't meet anyone's eyes.

  
"I'm sorry we did this to you, Jonginnie," Sehun said, and grasped his first cup. OSH. "On three?"

  
Jongin looked at Sehun's steady hand. He reached past his own line of drinks to take the final cup. Someone hollered. Someone else Snapchatted. Breathing deep, he tried to block everything else out. At least his two closest friends stood at his side. "One."

  
"Two."

  
"Three."

  
They downed their respective cups. Clear liquid scorched down his throat and chest, lighting up parts of him untouched since Halloween. God-awful. Probably some cheap vodka scraped out of the nearest liquor store. Jongin screwed his face up. Three more to go.

  
Next: pink-tinted sweetness. Rum, maybe, mixed with tequila or over-ripened pomegranate juice. Not as bad. Still, he wish for water to help it down. No time to waste. Baekhyun pounded on the table, yelling something unintelligible at Sehun, but Jongin closed his eyes to obstruct everything. He picked up the next. Deep purple. Wine with a nauseating catch at the end - hot spice, like wine dribbled with kimchi juice. Fucking disgusting.

  
He couldn't help it. He coughed. Lurching forward, one hand latched onto the table for support. "Who - who did this? Jeez."

  
Chanyeol howled with laughter. Even past the closest group of onlookers, Junmyeon presided over the melee with a gleeful smile. They all enjoyed watching their juniors suffer. At his side, Tao definitely sniffled. Jongin's heart rate kicked up.

  
One more. Fuck this. He would ace their idiotic test. He knocked it back and - to his ultimate surprise - the last one was water. Blessed, cool, and refreshing. A kick to the stomach.

  
Kyungsoo met his eyes. He inclined his chin infinitesimally. You're welcome, he seemed to say, and Jongin nodded back.

  
Tao still choked down his second drink. Tears stung at the corners of both eyes. A dribble of something orange slid down his chin. Sehun, on the other side, eyed up his last cup. Something warm and rhythmic started tapping the inside of Jongin's chest. Sluggish. He blinked slow. It felt good.

  
He reached inside his jacket for the flute. The good feeling wouldn't last long. Soon he would stumble and slur. "Give me the sheet music," he said.

  
Junmyeon's hand slipped into view. A small slip of paper, traced with an immaculate treble clef and staff, read _Aegukga_ at the top. The South Korean national anthem. A breath Jongin didn't realize he held whooshed from his chest. Oh. A song he could likely perform blindfolded and half-dead.

  
Supported by the melody of Tao whimpering into his final plastic cup, Jongin fisted his flute and raised it to his lips. The mayhem quieted for half a second. He basked in the hot attention from his brothers and allowed his eyes to flutter closed. The aftertaste of sweet pomegranate lingered.

  
He blew.

  
Needless to say, he passed with flying colors. Tao also passed with no trouble at all, but Sehun, a closet lightweight, struggled on the last four bars. Jeers turned to shouts of encouragement and camaraderie. Someone ignited a chant: "Oh Se-hun! Oh Se-hun!" Chanyeol's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head.

  
Finally, he completed the song without a hitch and collapsed backwards into a chair. The room erupted. Jongin found himself squished and breathless underneath Tao, who threw himself over the other two pledges, with Kyungsoo's hands on his shoulders and Chanyeol's elbow in his neck and Minseok's legs tangled with his and someone, god it better not be Jongdae, tickling his armpits.

  
This was what Junmyeon meant when he claimed that his frat was family. _I guess they're my family now, too_ , he caught himself thinking, and in the happy aftershocks of three shots and skinship, he laughed. Open. Free. Uninhibited, he laughed. He could feel at home here.

 

* * *

 

  
_161512, KITCHEN_

  
On the final night of Chi Omega's initiation ceremony, they hosted a large dinner with the entire frat present. Though they all easily fit around the dining table, it was rare to gather everyone together at mealtime. Kyungsoo, Junmyeon, and Minseok (ft. Luhan's reluctant right hand) whipped up an enormous pot of kimchijijjae and rice, complete with stacks of musengchae, seasoned cucumber, petal-shaped gimbap, kongjaban, and steamed eggs.

  
"I can help," Jongin offered, "Kyungsoo hyung, let me do the eggs, please?"

  
"Not happening," Kyungsoo said. "Get out of the kitchen."

  
"This is a dinner for the class of 2020," Junmyeon said, and gently pushed his little brother towards the living room, where the other freshmen had no trouble entertaining themselves with Call of Duty before dinner. Not even Jongin's best puppy dog eyes and tousled hair would sway them.

  
He felt utterly useless trudging back to the couch. The house smelled wonderful. Kyungsoo took care of them all too well - Chi Omega was spoilt beyond belief. Jongin felt complied to help his big with the cooking; he was just as competent, and the autopilot familiarity of wooden spoons and hot pad gloves soothed him.

  
Regardless of Junmyeon's endless, inviting presence, Jongin could carve out a place for himself in Chi Omega. Right? Like a sous chef. He'd already accepted them as people he would not shake so easily. Something permanent. He wanted to be permanent for them, too.

  
Just as he collapsed onto the far left cushion, narrowly missing Sehun's propped up foot, the front door slammed open. A blast of icy air coagulated in the foyer and blew outward in a vicious attack on the whining radiator. Two fluffy beanie-headed shapes shuffled inside and closed the door against the godforsaken cold.

  
"Ah, fuck," one said.

  
"No shit," said the other.

  
"I can't feel my fingers."

  
"I can't feel my face. Or my ass."

  
"Help me unzip," the one in a bright red parka flailed his arms. He tipped backward like a flicked marshmallow and bounced lightly off the wall. "Help, I can't breathe."

  
Baekhyun's war-weary face emerged from the zipped tip of the parka like a pale whale breaching the surface. He gasped desperately for air while a second pair of hands stripped the stifling jacket from his body. Jongdae's beanie flopped to the floor, pathetic and snow-speckled, while the two of them followed suit and faux-fainted at the edge of the foyer, discarding a trail of winter clothes and wet spots behind them.

  
"Six," Sehun called over computerized gunshots, "Missed the opportunity to roll a snowman inside and pretend you'd frozen solid. Pathetic."

  
"Zero out of ten, please never repeat again," Tao said. Well. This was a music frat, not an acting frat. They had standards.

  
"I need to hug Minseokkie to live," Baekhyun moaned, and he feebly crawled toward the kitchen. A damp trail followed like a bloodstain on the wooden floorboards.

  
Last winter around this time, Jongin spent a majority of his life in a makeshift studio shack attached to the orchestra room in high school. A cracked mirror, wayward electricity, and speckled wood tiles that probably violated several public health laws - but it felt like home, especially when he tugged on smudged ballet flats and twirled, twirled, twirled into oblivion. Sehun always said that Jongin was meant to dance. More than anyone else. He belonged in a better studio, he had a future of ultra bright lights and roses. He was the real deal.

  
Now, the stained green couch sagged under his weight. Scattered hoots and hollers echoed unexplained from the kitchen, two of his best friends shit-smacked each other at his side (what a cocking assfuck, Sehun remarked) and the general feel of the house was full and warm. Cozy.

  
The uneasy salt taste in his mouth, lingering when they first unintentionally pledged, had completely dissipated. Maybe Jongin was meant to trail after his overbearing big brother - for now, at least, it felt right.

  
When Tao took a bullet to the spleen for a final time, Jongin swiped his controller and joined the next round. Videogames were boring as hell, honestly, but it was worth it for Sehun's indignant squeak when he shot him in the ass. Victory.

  
The house only waited for Chanyeol. He was probably still tied up at his internship, but he'd better hurry. Over faint gunfire, Jongin could hear the final hissing steam shots of rising egg. Dinner was practically ready. One more shot: bang. He idly kicked Sehun's controller, sending it flying into the futon.

  
"What the fuck," Sehun said flatly. Tao cackled.

  
"Let's go," Jongin said, "I'm hungry. After this, we're all legitimately full members."

  
They were sobered by the reminder: this was their last step to full Chi Omega brotherhood. After five rollercoaster months, it was time.

 

  
Meanwhile, Chanyeol was still late.

  
So late that he could almost smell Junmyeon's Disappointed Cologne, a running gag in Chi Omega based on his tendency to stall before events if a brother was late by retreating upstairs and retouching his immaculate appearance. The result was always too much cologne, cool and cloying in the nose, paired with a particularly heated glare at the latecomer. Tonight the smell would be his fault. Chanyeol hated that smell and hated disappointing his own little at his own dinner. Fuck.

  
It wasn't entirely his fault. A new exec stopped by the studio unexpectedly, so all of Chanyeol's bosses ran amuck like chickens and asked him to do a million things at once. In the eye of the hurricane, they played demos for the exec and he only complimented one: Chanyeol's newest original, _Cheer Up_.

  
After the exec left with a copy of Chanyeol's work to show his own studio - that's when it got exciting. Joongki swiveled his chair around to face Chanyeol. Blue tie and pressed suit. Half-consumed coffee on the desk. He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I think it's about time for a promotion," he said, and Chanyeol's heart leapt.

  
But it wasn't that simple.

  
He crashed into the front door of Chi Omega so hard it sent a twinge of pain down his shoulder. He ricocheted off the brass lion. The door was, as usual, locked. Chanyeol shoved his key inside, turned it, and fell inside with a huge huff. At full speed he shucked off his shoes, dropped his bag, and catapulted through the foyer and into the dining room.

  
"Sorry," he wheezed, "I'm late."

  
The entirety of the frat was gathered around the table, speaking loudly and overlapping one another in comfortable familiarity. Sehun beamed and waved him over, his bowl already a mountain of kimchi, meat, and rice. It smelt like the seventh circle of heaven.

  
"You're not late, we're just about to start!" Sehun said.

  
Junmyeon's raised brows and fake smile spoke more truthfully of the time - he was a solid twenty minutes late - but no one else commented. A relief. Chanyeol could kiss cute little Sehun. It had been a long day at work and he was really, really, fucking hungry. Not to mention more than ready to finally welcome the pledges as full brothers of Chi Omega. They earned it with a very rocky semester.  
Chanyeol slipped into the empty seat next to Sehun and tried to catch up.

  
Across the table, Tao and Yixing recounted a story about the school swimming pool and colored contacts, Jongin argued with Baekhyun and Luhan about which condiments belonged on eggs, and Kyungsoo worried a fork into his food like a true chef appraising his own work. Typical.

  
Classy as always, Junmyeon tapped his fork against his glass and cleared his throat. Conversations slid away. It was time to begin. "Welcome to your last night as pledges, Class of 2020. Congratulations and welcome to Chi Omega. Eat up!"

  
Jongdae shouted, everyone clapped, and Yixing shoveled rice into his mouth. A short and sweet introduction from the president - unusual. Chanyeol relaxed into his seat and dolled himself a serving of stew. Lulled into a false sense of security.

  
Just as he crammed a spoonful of rice into his mouth, Junmyeon pounced. "So how's the internship, Chanyeol?"

  
Oops. Everyone turned to look at him. His cheeks were puffed outwards with rice. He covered his mouth and giggled.

  
"Actually, today they made me an ultimatum," Chanyeol said, swallowing thickly and leaning back in his chair, "to drop out of school and work for them full-time, or leave the company entirely. They said they like my stuff and don't have room for part-time artists."

  
A thin hush slid over the table. The room shifted and abruptly felt colder. Jongin, cute little blonde Jongin, smiled across the steaming pot of kimchijjijae. "Are you going to take it, hyung?"  
"I..." he hesitated. "I think so."

  
Baekhyun whooped. He leapt from his seat and threw up his hands, inadvertently sending rice catapulting from his chopsticks, and beamed. A thin chain around his neck swung free. "Congratulations! You're going to be famous! You're going to meet Taemin, and Taeyeon, and Taeyang, and Jay Park - "

  
As usual, Baekhyun broke the tension. Jongdae giggled and squeezed Chanyeol's arm. For once, the lines around Junmyeon's eyes went smooth. His shoulders hunched like he might tear up. He looked - not quite happy, but closer to proud. Excited chatter swept over the table. Tao's eyes bugged out of his head. Everyone demanded details on place, position, and pay.  
Awash in happiness, Chanyeol almost missed Kyungsoo leave the table.

  
He only stepped away for a heartbeat to grab salt. As he sat back down, he caught Chanyeol's eye and smiled. A tiny flash. It seemed a little forced, but the clamor around the table swelled. Maybe he was just too tired to handle the excitement of ten hungry brothers.

  
Junmyeon dished another large heap of steaming rice onto Chanyeol's plate, and he forgot immediately whatever he'd been thinking about Kyungsoo's smile. Conversation branched to the inevitable December snow day, DNCE's latest hit, and a shitty joke about Pokemon Go Minseok heard on TV. Frost curled up the kitchen windows, but the radiator sputtered out warm air and someone's soft, socked foot brushed his under the table.

 

* * *

 

  
_162212, DO HOUSEHOLD_

  
Everyone went home for winter break. Kyungsoo sat in his childhood bedroom and turned off his phone.

  
The first few days he left it untouched on the desk, it felt weird. Surreal and dream-like. To be at home again, hugging his mother and father and Seungsoo, and completely detached from the frat brothers. Several times he turned on the couch to shit talk a movie with Jongdae and met empty cushions. More than one lonely evening, he stared at the ceiling and considered FaceTiming Jongin to hear his soft, tired voice.

  
He didn't touch the phone. Or the laptop.

  
One thing stopped him: the inevitability of Chanyeol's permanent absence. The matte black screen of his empty devices soothed the thick, hot fear. I don't need him, a subterranean thought surfaced. I'll do fine without him. Preventative measures. He would wean himself of Chanyeol now and be better prepared for next semester, or next year, or whenever Chanyeol decided to leave. Survival tactics, really.

  
And in order to do that, temptation had to be abolished. No connection with anyone. It would be a healthy break.

  
"What do you have planned for your birthday?" His mother asked, tottering around the kitchen. Pork belly steamed and hissed on the stove.

  
Kyungsoo absently stirred the soybean paste soup. Flecks of seaweed danced in, out. "Not much. I think I'm staying in."

  
"Are you sure? We could go out to dinner, maybe that chicken restaurant you like - ?"

  
"No thanks, umma," he said, and caught his mom's hand as she passed by heading for the water pitcher. He squeezed it and smiled. The soup bubbled. He didn't really feel like celebrating. She frowned but didn't push.

  
Days passed. Kyungsoo color-coded notebooks for next semester. He started a drama with Jo Insung, then finished a drama with Jo Insung. His parents inquired politely about his studies, friends, frat, job. He batted them mundane, easy answers - what they wanted to hear, not necessarily the "two months ago my entire frat almost went to jail for theft" truth. Or the "I'm fucking my best friend and I don't know what to do about it" truth.

  
He briefly caught up with childhood friends. Hyunsik absorbed the entire situation alongside a steaming pot of jjajangmyeon, sitting in a tucked-away dive halfway between their respective houses. After several moments of silent, contemplative chewing, Hyunsik laughed. "Sounds like a riot. Honestly, I never expected you to be the scared one," he said, and Kyungsoo flushed.

  
"That's not it," he said, "You don't know Chanyeol."

  
It felt like another facade.

  
New Year's Eve: he sat on the porch steps and watched the fireworks. Red sparkles, yellow flares, blue and green and purple blooms of light across the night sky. They consumed the stars, and they consumed him. For a string of blissful moments, he forgot.

  
On the grey, bedraggled morning of his birthday, there was a knock on the door.

  
Kyungsoo set down his cup of tea. It wasn't quite late enough for the feeble sun to hit the jagged roof tips of the house. Low cloud cover smothered the city. He pulled his sweater over his palms and walked to the door. Another impatient knock. He opened it, already irritated at this person's attitude so early in the morning -

  
And there he was.

  
Beaming, sleep-rumpled, backpacked Chanyeol. His hair was shorter and very dark, back to its natural color. The chill set a flush high on both cheeks, and despite the aggressively disgusting hour of the morn, he smiled even harder.

  
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY," he shouted, and fell onto Kyungsoo with huge hugging arms. "Where have you been? You haven't answered anybody's texts the whole break and we didn't know if you were okay. There were no Snapchats or Kakaotalk messages or Tweets. School starts next Monday and I thought Jongin was going to cry when he couldn't reach you. He tried to track your phone and make sure you weren't kidnapped, but I told him I had your Mom on Facebook and I would know - speaking of, where are your parents can I say hi - "

  
He couldn't breathe. Chanyeol's arms slid down his sweater and fell away. Oblivious to the stupefied implosion happening in Kyungsoo's chest, Chanyeol brushed past him into the tidy living room. The steaming tea rested alone on the table. A stainless steel flower clock chirped 7 am.

  
"They're at work," he said. It felt like a literal brain freeze. "What... what are you doing here?"

  
Chanyeol's grin dimmed. A fraction of a slip. "We didn't know why you - why you cut us off. I wanted to make sure everything was okay. And it's your birthday, I wanted to see you."

  
"But it's so early. You don't wake up before noon without an arsenal of alarms, I don't..."

  
Chanyeol sat at the living room table. He lived a mere twenty minutes away, on the other side of Ilsandonggu. He'd only visited a couple times, maybe half a dozen, but he appeared so at ease. "But you're a morning person," he explained simply, "and I didn't want to miss you."

  
Nothing made sense. His sudden crackling appearance, like a lightning flash in calm clouds, set everything alive. The room felt brighter. Kyungsoo reached without thought for his glasses, slid them on, and still tried not to squint. He forgot everything. The longing, the hurt, the denial, everything from the beginning of winter break: gone. Only Chanyeol and his clear dawn eyes. Chanyeol and his excitement.

  
Kyungsoo sat across from him. He slid his cup of tea over, and Chanyeol sipped it contentedly. He let the silence drape casually across their shoulders - he needed to find the right words. This was important.

  
"I'm sorry," Kyungsoo started, "for not talking to you guys. It's not fair. I need time to recharge, I guess."

  
"It's okay," Chanyeol said immediately. No hesitation.

  
"But you're leaving," Kyungsoo said. There. He said it. It was out there, sinking in the space between them. "You're leaving."

  
"So?"

  
"So why bother? You're going to be busy next semester. Too busy to take time like this for birthdays, or whatever. I get that. I'm trying to... prepare. To make the separation easier."

  
Chanyeol's eyebrows lifted. "Just because I might be leaving school doesn't mean I won't see you."

  
"You're moving out. The new studio is in Gangnamgu, you won't be visiting very often. And that's okay, I understand - "

  
"You're just preparing for the worst," Chanyeol finished, crossing his arms over the table. He settled against the seatback, jaw tilted in disbelief. "I don't get it. You ignored us for four weeks because - because you think I'm going to ignore you later? How is that making it easier?"

  
Now Kyungsoo was genuinely irritated. He extended an olive branch by admitting his insecurities about Chanyeol leaving, and now his words were being twisted. He pressed his hands tight over the mug and let it scald his palms. "I'm trying to adjust. We're not going to hang out very often, so dragging out our friendship like this isn't the - "

  
"'Dragging out our friendship?' Damn, tell me how you really feel."

  
"That's not what I meant," he said, but the damage was done.

  
Chanyeol's face fell impossibly slack for a moment. He composed himself. The unhappy turn of his mouth was disturbing in its rarity; Kyungsoo had seen it flash-and-gone, but never directed at him. Chanyeol's bright eyes pinned him to the seat.

  
"How am I supposed to take that?" he asked, voice rising, "Things change, Kyungsoo. You can't deal with that by locking yourself in your parent's house for a month. If you really think that this - that we have an expiration date, I don't know what to say. We don't have to keep hooking up or, or whatever we're doing, but I thought we were closer than that regardless."

  
Everything went numb. Kyungsoo tried to say something, anything, but the words built up in his throat and blocked it. He wasn't even sure he was breathing. They'd never brought it up before, not since that first time.

  
"Chanyeol, no, it's just..." he started, but didn't know how to say how can I put faith in us when a part of you only wants me around physically? The object of Chanyeol's desire in the moment. Always where the logic turns. His fleeting attention would pass over and away and, like Kyungsoo always told himself, nothing would work. Not even best friends, now.

  
He knew what the future looked like: Himself, still slaving away at the local theater. Chanyeol, rising in popularity and smiles, dropping by the Chi Omega house once a week, once a month, once in a while when he remembered. Another obnoxious hair color, expensive sunglasses, selcas with celebrities, and a river of texts turned to a trickle. Would he even attend their graduation? The inevitable growing distance between two stars catapulting in opposite directions.

  
Seoul was a big city.

  
"It's inevitable," he said. That was all.

  
Chanyeol looked down at his hands. "You're wrong," he said softly. He stood up, fished something dark from his backpack, and tossed it on the table. A folded sweater with a pink card sticking out the top. He walked toward the door. Each heavy step echoed.

  
Belatedly, Kyungsoo scrambled up and followed. Chanyeol paused with one foot on the porch and one foot still inside, the door hanging half-open. When he turned around, he looked at Kyungsoo with large, hurt eyes. Pretty pink lips still thinned down at the edges. Unhappy lines in his face. The expression lurked in its familiarity - flashes shown during tragic movies, after a terrible test, but never to this degree. Not anger, but heartbreak.

  
"I still haven't decided about the position," he said, "I was going to ask you for advice, but that's okay. I guess it doesn't matter if we're not going to be friends. Happy birthday, Kyungsoo-yah."  
Then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

  
  
_171601, EDGE OF CAMPUS_

  
The instant Kyungsoo stepped out of the train station, it began to snow.

  
Neon flickering lights from the Japanese market across the street caught his attention. It was a fifteen-minute walk through campus to Greek row, but the house had likely been stripped to its bones of anything edible in his absence. Even the ramen stash. Hopefully those who had stayed for the majority of break - Junmyeon, Luhan, Yixing, Jongdae? - hadn't starved.

  
He fervently hoped they had the sense to throw out any stale jars of kimchi. Or moldy bread. Or expired yakult. There were no guarantees.

  
Kyungsoo traipsed through the storm door and shook petals of ice off each puffy sleeve. When he turned toward the freezer section, his meager backpack nearly knocked out a display of Kracie Popin' Cookin' Gummies. Tiny candy cheeseburgers mocked him. Fuck, it was only 6 pm on a Sunday and he already wanted to collapse into a large bundle of warm sheets and cancel the upcoming week.  
Moving quickly, he picked up house essentials only (including a box of matcha Pepero because fuck you, that's why) and tried not to cringe when the total rounded up to 40 000 won. He needed another job. Or a better one. Free employee movies were hardly worth the minumum wage and stale popcorn stench.

  
As Kyungsoo tugged his card out of his wallet, someone else's hand jutted forward to hand the cashier a card first. "This one's on me," they said, and Kyungsoo turned to see Baekhyun in all his suave, smiling glory.

  
"Hey," he said, in total surprise.

  
"Hey. Long time no see."

  
Kyungsoo started to say something, he didn't even know what, but the cashier handed back the card with a receipt and suddenly Baekhyun picked up the bags. In one sweep, he'd stepped away. Two more steps until the door. One.

  
"Wait," he called, and bolted after Baekhyun. One shoe caught in a puddle on the tile and he wavered, arms pinwheeling. His knee bent awkwardly. No use. Kyungsoo went down hard, shoulder knocking into a shelf of miscellaneous candy bars and chewing gum. A Toblerone bounced off his ear. When he hit the tile ass first, a cascade of sweets followed and pelted his chest like hail.

  
The store went very quiet. The only sound came from the last few dripping candy bars - plop, plop. Kyungsoo first felt his ears start to burn. He couldn't look up. He couldn't bear the humiliation, though he likely deserved it. An individual bag of Hello Panda slid from his aching shoulder down to his hip, displacing three boxes of Trident peppermint gum that dripped to the floor.

  
Baekhyun stood in front of the door. The bags hung limp from his hands, and his slender mouth hung open. Kyungsoo couldn't help it - he locked eyes with Baekhyun. For a cold, cruel moment, he envisioned Baekhyun turning and walking out the door.

  
Slowly, Baekhyun's mouth closed. Then he lurched downward. Exhaled loudly. The bags thumped to the floor. Kyungsoo watched in horrified fascination as Baekhyun nearly fell to his knees with laughter. At first he tried to conceal it, to stifle it, but in seconds it surged outwards.

  
Strangely enough, Kyungsoo caught himself laughing, too. The awful heat of mortification flashed, his cheeks still burned red, but - his head fell back and he giggled at the fucking absurdity of landing ass-first in a pile of sweets.

  
The cashier was less amused. He shooed the two hysterical kids out of the store, cursing in Japanese, and they spilled onto the street. The snow fell thicker, and Kyungsoo ducked his head against it.  
"Your f-face," Baekhyun spluttered, and caused another wave of untamed mirth. They leaned against the wall of the market.

  
It took another long string of seconds for the giggling to peter out. Kyungsoo realized that he still held his debit card in one hand. He shoved it into his stuffed pack, brushing snow off his fringe with one hand. The quiet snuck up.

  
Baekhyun stood against the wall, holding the bags and looking at Kyungsoo. A furry hood plastered against his cheek in the swelling breeze. The moment of intimacy, familiar laughter together, had faded. It seemed that two strangers happened to meet on a curb.

  
He couldn't stand it. This wasn't supposed to happen.

  
"Hey," Kyungsoo said, and looked hard for his words amongst the dropping snow. He would need to repeat this eight more times - nine, if he ever spoke to Chanyeol. This had to be done right. "I'm sorry I wasn't around much over break."

  
Short on words, as usual. He didn't have any more to say. As usual.

  
Baekhyun squinted through the thickening spread of white. Wayward flakes blew into his eyelashes and he rubbed them away, smearing the perimeter of his eyeliner. "It's not me you have to apologize to. Well, yes it is, but not for what you think."

  
"What do you mean?"

  
"Do you know where Chanyeol went after he left your house on your birthday? I'll tell you. First he ran ten miles. Then he showed up exhausted and half-dead at my door. He thought he'd be too tired to cry by then. But he wasn't."

  
A sucker punch right to Kyungsoo's lungs. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even fathom Chanyeol - tears on his face - because a few misplaced words were tossed around, an argument he never meant to plant. This was his fault. As usual.

  
Why did Chanyeol care so much? Again, again, again, the logic turned: How far would they go before Chanyeol realized this wasn't worth the trouble? How long before his attention slipped away and refocused on someone new?

  
Not yet, apparently. The depthless, Chanyeol-shaped chasm in his chest widened. Kyungsoo swirled into a mausoleum of guilt.

  
"He misunderstood," he said. Not like it mattered.

  
"I know," Baekhyun said, and his eyes were soft below the sharp, dark eyeliner. He blinked. A shining snowflake caught high on his cheek and winked into nothingness. "It's not really your fault. It's not his, either. But honestly, you should be the one to fix it."

  
Kyungsoo stuck both gloved hands in his pockets. "I don't know if I can."

  
"Doesn't matter. You have to."

  
A car honked on the street over. It broke the tense, locked atmosphere. Kyungsoo looked down and studied his worn black laces. He breathed deep, and the icy air burned all the way down his chest. "How much time do I have?"

  
Baekhyun frowned. "Ask him. I've said enough, I don't like being the middle man."

  
That was fair. Kyungsoo reached out and took a bag. The load was split evenly between them. All the way back to the house, Kyungsoo did his best to banish thoughts of Chanyeol. He listened to Baekhyun chatter about winter break, allowed himself to bask in the familiar insufferable noises, and admired the city lights twinkling over fresh hills of street-side snow. He hadn't realized how much he ached for this place, for these people. He'd tried to protect his heart and only made it worse for everyone.

  
Huffing and puffing, Baekhyun set down his bag and pounded on the front door. Chi Omega looked exactly as they left it - plus an extra foot of snow and slush.

  
The doorknob jiggled. Yixing stuck his head out and squinted at them. "Ah, welcome home!"

  
"Warmth," Baekhyun moaned, falling face-first through the door and almost stepping on both of Yixing's socked feet in his haste to get out of the snow.

  
Kyungsoo followed, chasing the blast of humid air. Residual ramen smell, thirty thousand pairs of shoes stacked in the foyer, distant blends of Jongdae's laughter and an A minor chord. Home. He shut the door behind them.

  
Before Yixing could shuffle away, Kyungsoo set down his groceries and pulled him into a hug. They stood tucked together, Yixing's hands stroking gently, in silence. The final shivers of snowstorm survival ceased. Kyungsoo preferred when words weren't necessary.

  
"I missed you too, baobei," Yixing said, finally pulling away and touching his cheek. "How have you been?"

  
Kyungsoo hung his coat on the rack and regathered the groceries. Balancing ovular bags of cheese puffs for Jongin and fragile wheat bread, he hesitated. A crystallized memory of Baekhyun's laugh, like a balm, flashed. He felt a bruise developing on his ass. "Getting better, honestly. You?"

  
"I like it when the house is loud," Yixing admitted, then lowered his voice. "Chanyeol's downstairs, by the way. Has been since he came back."

  
Oh. Kyungsoo opened his mouth to say - what? Everyone must know, then, about what transpired in their private argument. Maybe about the other stuff too. He hit ctrl + d on that awkward moment when a terribly wet splattering noise reached them from the kitchen. Yixing took that opportunity to beeline for the stairs and away from whatever pandemonium ensued. Kyungsoo kicked his boots into the summit of footwear and headed for the noise. Groceries. Distraction.

  
He turned the corner and almost slipped on his ass for the second time in twenty minutes. Baekhyun crouched on the tile, soaked waist-down in something red.

  
"What - " Kyungsoo started to say, and then stopped. Green. Rinds among the red. Remnants of a watermelon laid scattered over impossibly large span of the kitchen floor.

  
Deja vu. They both burst into laughter, Baekhyun whining about his clothes between hysterics. It took maybe ten minutes of mopping and Junmyeon wiping down the counter to conquer the kitchen. The two of them - peppy president and disgruntled sophomore - bumbled off towards the basement to salvage the ruined clothes. The first floor fell quiet again. Surrounded by the familiar shapes of his well-worn appliances, Kyungsoo tapped a wooden spoon against the sink. He could talk to Chanyeol later. He could push it off a little more.

  
Kyungsoo set a pot of water on the stove and took out a carton of eggs. Might as well cook dinner.

  
As soon as he set out the meat, he heard the front door open and slam closed. Several footsteps later, Jongin appeared beaming beside the counter. He set down an enormous cup of coffee and didn't hesitate to throw himself into Kyungsoo's arms.

  
"Hyung!" he mumbled into Kyungsoo's shoulder. "You're back. I missed you."

  
"Happy late birthday, Jongin. Sorry to miss it."

  
"It's okay. How are you feeling?"

  
A terrible swell of fondness burst in Kyungsoo's chest. He'd basically ignored his little all break - including his birthday - but Jongin only asked after his well-being. He reached up and ruffled his crazy white hair fondly. "I'm fine. I'll take you out to lunch this week to make up for it, I promise. All the meat you want. On me."

  
"You don't have to," Jongin said, but he looked delighted. "Actually, I was going to cook tonight. Sehun requested my _seolleongtang_."

  
Kyungsoo glanced back at his pot, hardly boiling, and opened his mouth to say _no it's okay, I'll take care of it_. But Jongin's shoulders were high with pride. Never did Kyungsoo think he would have to share Chi Omega's kitchen. Most of the brothers struggled with ramen. Maybe it was a sign that he should stop stalling and track down the one person he needed to talk to most.

  
The indecision in his face must have been obvious. "Really," Jongin said, "I'm drowsy, but I have coffee, and I need my hands to keep me awake."

  
That didn't entirely make sense, but Kyungsoo let it slide. He braced himself. "Okay. Call me if you want help. I'll be downstairs."

  
They hugged again for good measure. Kyungsoo wrapped the ends of his sleeves around his hands. The walk to the basement was a death march. Every carpet-crunching step felt heavier and heavier. He paused in front of the door. Distantly, Jongin exclaimed, "Hey, where's my coffee?!"

  
But the rest of the house didn't matter right now. Everything fell quiet, fuzzed, and drifted away. He opened the door and walked downstairs.

  
The door to the practice room hung open and Kyungsoo's eyes were drawn to the explosion of color on the floor. A pile of laundry, likely Baekhyun's. The lamp cast short shadows over two empty beds, a hill of Rilakkumas, and a slumped figure lounging on the floor against his own bed.

  
"No, you can't borrow the red Calvin Kleins, either, because I like those - " Chanyeol looked up and froze. "Oh. Hi."

  
Hair awry and eyes wide, he looked exactly the same as he always did. Ridiculous black sweater with an unintelligible English word scrawled across the chest. Legs askew in baggy jeans. A guitar pick in one hand. Chanyeol's face shut down and he looked at Kyungsoo like he was a particularly dull guest lecturer. An uninteresting stranger. Someone of no consequence.

  
It hurt.

  
"Hi," Kyungsoo said.

  
Cautiously, unaccustomed to an absence of warmth from Chanyeol the human sun, he lowered himself onto the floor beside the opposite bed. They mirrored each other.

  
A short pause. Kyungsoo tried to gather the shards of his thoughts from around Chanyeol's feet. Looking at him - so close, so unattainable - was chaos. A hypnosis he wanted to fall into and simply disregard the past two months.

  
"What?" Chanyeol asked, and he sounded irritated, he sounded bothered. Never had he directed that attitude at Kyungsoo before. Or anyone in Chi Omega. To be on the receiving end of disinterest from someone who exalted over lemon drops and a nice key change ached. He knew Chanyeol better.

  
"Wait," Kyungsoo said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have cut you off or said those things on my birthday. What the studio offered you scared me, because as much as we talk about making it big one day, I wasn't ready for reality to ruin our little university bubble. I'm still not ready. But I know it's not my choice. This is a huge opportunity, and even if you have to drop out to pursue it, I support you. I'll always support you. You're my best friend."

  
The words, though he meant them so vehemently, caught and clunked on their way out. His throat swelled. He swallowed hard. Chanyeol could probably see right through the self-control and into the fervency Kyungsoo tried to hide for so long. Here he was: bare.

  
"Thanks," Chanyeol said.

  
Separated by several long inches, they looked at each other. Kyungsoo couldn't read Chanyeol's face. His broad shoulders still drooped, he still drummed on his thigh absently, and he kept looking. Those bright eyes, for once carefully composed.

  
Kyungsoo felt a little like he was on trial. He sat up straighter. If he didn't get it all out now, he never would. He couldn't lose his momentum. "Also," he said, "sorry for helping Baekhyun switch your lotions for lube, and hide your Rilakkumas on the roof. That was Jongin's idea."

  
Chanyeol cracked. A tiny smile slid upwards. Then they were both laughing, bent forward, and the awful feelings were sucked away. Fuck it, Kyungsoo thought, and breached the distance. He toppled into Chanyeol's open arms. They leaned against the foot of the bed, clinging to one another. Something primitive and bottomless in Kyungsoo's chest started singing.

  
As he tucked his head under Chanyeol's chin, Kyungsoo pressed his lips to the infuriating sweater and inhaled. Something sweet, something honey, something familiar and comforting.  
Chanyeol's chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. "I took the job."

  
"I'm happy for you."

  
"Kyungsoo."

  
They shifted. Kyungsoo propped himself on one hand, leaning away from Chanyeol's inviting expanse of chest. Whereas before Chanyeol's face was careful, controlled - now his chin tilted down, eyebrows together. Urgent. A clomp-clomp of hurried footsteps from the second floor echoed.

  
"What?" he asked, dumbly.

  
"I took the job. But they're not making me drop out of school. They agreed to work around my classes."

  
"What?" he said again, floored. That was never an option. That wasn't how this conversation ended. Kyungsoo's lips parted but he said nothing. He couldn't process.

  
A leisurely grin crept up Chanyeol's face. That smug, shit-eating, _I know something you don't_ grin that had caused endless irritation over the past two years, only amplified. It ate his face with joy.

  
"It was crazy. I thought about leaving, honestly, but I couldn't. I ran into the studio on a Sunday and basically shoved a flashdrive at them and begged. Got on my knees and everything. Jinri took a picture," he said, long fingers flexing as he gesticulated wildly, "But you know what really sold them?"

  
"What?" Breathless.

  
"Our track. _Heaven_. I finished it. They absolutely fucking loved it. So it was you, really, your voice convinced them to change their minds - "

  
Once again, Kyungsoo launched himself across the floor to close the distance. Chanyeol's head cracked against the bedframe but he immediately responded, large hands flexing tight on his waist and soft inhalation against his lips. Kyungsoo pressed closer and caged him in with both thighs, just kissing and kissing and kissing. For the first time in weeks, a wild heat crept up his neck. He felt warm. God, he'd missed this. When the future looked Chanyeol-less and dim, it sucked all the energy from his days. This was right. This felt so right. For several heartbeats he loathed himself for ever denying the truth. What a stubborn asshole he was. Feeling adrift, like they both might float away, he dragged his nails lightly through Chanyeol's hair and hung on.

  
Unexpectedly, Chanyeol's teeth grazed his lower lip and Kyungsoo stuttered, losing his rhythm with a quiet, deep sound reverberating from his chest. Chanyeol's eyes cracked open just enough to flash his pupils, blown to eternity. Then he leaned back to the bedframe, spread both hands on Kyungsoo's chest, and gently pushed him away.

  
"So you still... you still want this?" Chanyeol asked.

  
Kyungsoo's breath huffed out in impatience. That talented mouth should never waste its efforts on speaking. Ever. But maybe it would help to continue talking - he hadn't lost that spark, that momentum, that diamond determination stemming from holding what he'd wanted for so long. He could still speak, for once. His right hand stayed anchored in Chanyeol's hair. "I'll always want this," he said, "Want you."

  
" _Oh_ ," Chanyeol said, and visibly shivered. "Uh. The door is unlocked."

  
"So?"

  
It looked like it took some effort for Chanyeol to string words together, to refrain from surrendering to their proximity. "So anyone could walk in and see us."

  
"Let them," Kyungsoo said, sliding his hand down Chanyeol's neck and thumbing at the pounding pulse there. With hooded eyes, he watched his Adam's apple bob.

  
"And if they find out? About - what we're doing?"

  
His thumb gently skated across Chanyeol's cheek to swipe at the corner of his lips. They were already pink in the lamplight, plump and teased to perfection. He couldn't stop himself from touching. The tiny trembles, the bitten-off exhales, the flickering eyes from face to hands to mouth and back - Chanyeol's reactions were addicting. Kyungsoo's voice dropped lower. "Let them find out."

  
Chanyeol went rigid underneath him. "And what _are_ we doing?"

  
This was the question that mattered. Everything else was stalling, building the courage for this. Kyungsoo's heart stopped and restarted in four-four time. The contrast between Chanyeol's dark hair and the edge of the white sheets drew his attention. He couldn't look him in the eye.

  
"That depends," he said slowly, shifting a leg to sit in Chanyeol's lap. "What do you want to be doing?"

  
"I want more," Chanyeol said immediately. "I don't - I don't want to sneak around as secret fuck buddies or whatever we did last semester. If you don't want that, fine, but stop now. I hate lying. Especially to myself. I can't do that anymore."

  
Kyungsoo took a deep breath. The prospective image of Chanyeol that he feared - the starstruck, egotistical, rockstar who abandoned his friends - was not this Chanyeol. His fears were idiotic and unfounded. He knew this Chanyeol. He knew every sneeze, every ticklish plain, every puppy fantasy, every nasty remark he was capable of turning to a javelin and piercing the heart.

  
He also knew that Chanyeol's interests in people never lingered. But this time they had. "You want to tell people? To commit to this?"

  
Breathlessly, Chanyeol laughed. Incredulous. His eyes caught the lamplight and reflected it tenfold. "Yes. Of course. I've wanted that for a long time."

  
"Why didn't you say anything?"

  
"You weren't on the same page."

  
Kyungsoo opened his mouth to argue but Chanyeol's finger immediately came up to block him. "It's okay. I know you have a hundred defense mechanisms and deny yourself anything remotely fun, so you don't have to explain."

  
He couldn't help it, he laughed, and Chanyeol's answering grin set the room ablaze. Once again they leaned into each other's space, brushing noses and eyes hungry on each other's mouths. The honey-smell lingered on his skin. Kyungsoo tried to keep breathing.

  
"Let me explain now," he whispered. "I want this."

  
"Okay."

  
"Okay."

  
"Okay," Chanyeol said with a slow smile. They met in the middle.

 

  
Upstairs, unbeknownst to anyone else in the house, Jongin struggled.

  
Someone had nicked his coffee right off the table. He suffered from its loss; eyes drooping and movements slow, he tottered around the kitchen like an infant. Nothing worked. Jongin slapped his cheeks. He brushed two fingers over the stove and sucked them cool again. Nothing. He was so damn sleepy.

  
Mournful, he stirred the pot of stew and allowed the steam to stroke his face and hair. The warmth felt nice. He was nearly done...

  
On the opposite counter, his phone buzzed.

  
Taozi.

  
"Hello?"

  
_"Jongin, is Yixing at home?"_

  
"Uh. Yeah, I think so, why?"

  
Tao launched into a monologue of rushed, strangled Korean that Jongin struggled to understand. Fuck. He juggled the phone on one shoulder and covered the pot of steaming meat. "Hold on a sec, Taozi. I can't hear you."

  
He poked his head out of the kitchen. Baekhyun sprawled half-asleep on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. Probably reading erotic poetry again. Damn.

  
"Baekhyun," he called, "will you watch the stove for a second?"

  
"Sure," he said, unspooling his legs from underneath a pillow. A strange pink stain traced up one side of his jeans. Bounding into the kitchen, he rubbed his hands together like a creepy little minion.

  
Jongin pointed at the pot. "Don't touch anything."

  
Without waiting for confirmation Baekhyun would adhere to his order, he walked into the foyer and returned the phone to his ear. Harsh breathing echoed through the line. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

  
_"I need you to get Yixing. He's not answering his phone. I need help."_

  
"Where are you?"

  
_"I'm..."_

  
"Tao?"

  
_"That's not important,"_ he said in a rush. _"Just get Yixing to answer his phone! Please!"_

  
"Okay," Jongin said, already taking the stairs two at a time, "I'm going."

  
He paused at the first door on the second floor. It was newly christened as the room he would share with Tao and Sehun. Two tiny desks, a bunk bed, one separate bed, and a walk-in closet. He squeezed the doorknob and an infectious bubble of excitement stirred deep in his stomach. He did it. A full brother. He had his own room in the Chi Omega house.

  
It brought a sense of accomplishment he never anticipated.

  
In the final room on the second floor, Yixing was passed out cold. He curled into himself on the bed, using a thick book of sheet music as a pillow. Candles lit sporadically around the cramped single made his skin look angelic and soft. Jongin loathed to wake him. Of all people he would relish waking, Yixing was not one of them.

  
He stepped close and bent down to the bed. Yixing's phone lay abandoned on the sheets, blinking _6:58 PM. Missed call Zitao (4)_.

  
"Hyung," he whispered. "Wake up. Wake up."

  
He shook Yixing's shoulder lightly. Stirring, he blinked and snuffled like a puppy. It was painfully cute and Jongin ached with the desire to plummet into the blankets and burrow beside him. So inviting. So tempting.

  
"Whas it?" Yixing asked, blinking. Jongin held up the phone.

  
Yixing's eyes rounded. He grabbed it and dialed a number at lightning speed. Impressive for someone asleep ten seconds ago. He started speaking in rapidfire Mandarin. Jongin caught simple words, like "what " and "where." He stood and was just about to retreat downstairs when, through the phone, there was tinny scream.

  
Jongin hesitated.

  
All at once, Yixing catapulted off the bed and sent sheet music flying everywhere. Pens slid off the bed and thumped on the floor. He tossed the phone on the blankets and dove for the hallway.  
"Get Junmyeon," he shot over his shoulder as he pounded down the stairs. "Tao's in trouble."

  
Fuck. Fuck. Jongin's blood ran cold. He bolted upstairs and hesitated momentarily at the end of the banister - he'd only been on the third floor once, in total darkness, and it was pure luck he'd found Junmyeon then. Which door?

  
Oh well. No time to deliberate. He pounded on the closest one. Tao's in trouble.

  
The door opened. Luhan and Minseok peeked out. They wore matching beanies, supporting some European football team with red colors. "What's up?" Luhan asked.

  
"Where's Junmyeon hyung?"

  
"His room is that one," Minseok said, and pointed across the hall to a white, wooden door. It stood slightly ajar. "Something wrong?"

  
Before he could answer, someone downstairs screamed. High-pitched and awful. At first, Jongin thought it sounded like Tao - but then followed an enormous metallic crash and a low keening noise. The house itself creaked in its aftermath, restless and alive, like recovering from a blow. Wooden floorboards shifted. In the leftover quiet, Jongin heard rather than felt the strikes of his own heart against his chest.

  
Oh.

  
Jongin nearly tripped over his own feet running down the stairs. He entered the kitchen and had to catch himself in the doorway or risk slipping and falling to his demise. "Baekhyun?"

  
"I'm fine!" he chirped, "I'm good!"

  
The pot balanced precariously on the edge of the counter, Baekhyun's tiny hands dwarfed inside blue oven mitts. He grinned at Jongin, bright and effortless. "The soup's done! I finished it."

  
"Why did you scream?"

  
"I didn't scream," Baekhyun said, smile slipping, "I thought that was Luhan?"

  
"No. He's with Minseok upstairs. Did you see Yixing?"

  
Baekhyun readjusted his grip on the pot. Pushing white waterfalls of hair from his face, Jongin stepped in to take over. The aftershock of initial adrenaline ebbed. He moved the pot to the sink and turned off the stove. It did, in fact, look finished. Meat and bones swirled together. The salt-sweet smell billowed around them.

  
The oven mitts were tossed on the counter. "I heard the door slam," Baekhyun said, "but I didn't see anyone."

  
A flash of movement above the countertop caught Jongin's eye. He squinted out the window and stepped closer. Through the hazy, thin sheets of snow, a figure walked on the front lawn. No hat, no sweater, just a waving arm. When the breeze shifted, Jongin blinked. " _Yixing_?"

  
Five minutes later, Jongin stood shivering on the sidewalk with a majority of Chi Omega shouting in his ear. Yixing pressed his hands together like a monk in prayer and raised his eyes to the dark, unforgiving sky. Baekhyun sniffled quietly into Jongdae's shoulder. Junmyeon, Minseok, and Luhan argued vehemently about what to do when a freshman somehow slipped off the third-story balcony.

  
Majestic as always, Tao dangled upside-down from one ankle. His foot was perfectly caught between the slits in the gate. His hat lay fallen and crushed into the snow, a terrifying predilection of his future position. One hand flapped in a futile attempt to latch onto the pillars and climb to safety. He visibly gritted his teeth.

  
On top of everything else, Jongin's stolen coffee cup lay splattered in the snow directly below Tao. Forlorn and fading fast, the patch of semi-melted snow compelled his eyes. He couldn't look up. He couldn't watch Tao sway like a pendulum.

  
"We have to call 9-1-1," Junmyeon said.

  
"They'll take away the house," Luhan argued.

  
"His life is at stake!"

  
"Then let's get up there and save him!"

  
"Do you know _anything_ about rescue procedures? Are you secretly a member of the Special Forces, Captain Yoo?"

  
A chunk of fresh snow slid off the roof and shredded down Tao's leg. He sputtered and swayed in a nauseating fashion. "Hyung, hurry, my ankle hurts!"

  
Junmyeon paused and turned to Jongin. "Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are still downstairs. Go get them."

  
It felt like a dream. It felt like time itself stopped the moment Jongin stepped outside the house. He walked barefoot across the snow and through the front door. A serene interior. He couldn't string a coherent thought together. The basement door was closed. He opened it and walked downstairs and then there was Kyungsoo, shirtless and straddling Chanyeol -

  
They sprung apart, breathing heavy, both sans shirts and staring bug-eyed at the intruder. Chanyeol's jeans bunched around his knees.

  
"Oh, god," Jongin said faintly, and then, "sorry, _sorry,_ Tao's falling off the balcony, please come outside."

  
He ran.

  
On the way through the foyer, he paused to snatch his jacket from the rack. Shoes were too much of a hassle. Panicked footsteps and muttered curses signaled the lovebirds following suit. Jongin tried really, really hard to delete the past thirty seconds of his life. He'd never be able to face his big again.

  
_At least they weren't naked_ , a tiny Junmyeon-like voice in the back of his head commented. At least there was that.

  
Jongin crunched back outside, admiring the gargantuan breath-cloud fanning in front of his cheeks. By now Minseok paced underneath the balcony and Luhan clutched his phone, ready to dial. Tao's position: unchanged. He moaned.

  
"Holy shit," Chanyeol wheezed.

  
"Your fly's down," Jongdae said, mostly to make Baekhyun giggle where he was crushed into Jongdae's chest and sniffling earnestly.

  
Kyungsoo crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you smell smoke?"

  
"What?"

  
"I smell smoke," Tao called, arms hanging limp above his head. He resembled a tossed-aside doll. A broken toy wedged between the bedframe and the wall - worn, abused, alone. Jongin rubbed his eyes and wished ardently for Sehun's reassuring whine. For once, he missed that obnoxious noise.

  
The breeze shifted again. This time Jongin did smell it. Light and barely detectable amongst the snow, but smoke all the same. Where would it be coming from? A neighbor's fireplace?

  
All at once, it seemed that the wind stopped. The snow stopped. The Earth, for a suspended moment, halted its progression and the universe outside of that small stretch of land literally ceased to function. No one moved. No one breathed. The yawning abyss of eternity flashed.

  
Junmyeon ever so slowly reached out to touch Luhan's wrist.

  
"Call 9-1-1," he said, "the house is on fire."

  
They all saw it at the same time. A faint yellow glow from the second-story window behind Tao.

  
Jongin flashed back to the candles decorating Yixing's room, and the way they both rushed carelessly out the door. "Oh my god," he said. No one heard.

  
Luhan stepped away and started tapping at his phone.

  
Finally, Yixing opened his eyes. They stayed expressionless and even. His hair, still rumpled from the sheet music pillow, fell across his face. Still he looked angelic. Still he looked remote and untouchable - but for all the wrong reasons. Slowly, his eyes traveled up the pillars and graced his own window. The sound of his heart breaking reached a thousand decibels.

  
Chanyeol's head snapped around. "Your compositions."

  
Then he ran, dashing over the snow in untied boots, crashing through the front door in the blink of an eye. In unison, the two eldest members of the frat yelled. Kyungsoo made an aborted movement to give chase, eyes wild, but Jongin was faster. "Don't," he said, catching Kyungsoo's arm with both hands.

  
Jongin pulled his smaller frame close and held tight. Stiff under his touch, Kyungsoo bit his lip and said nothing.

  
"I can feel the heat," Tao's hands raised to touch the window inches from his face. " I - "

  
His next statement splintered into a thick cough. The smoke was visible now. It crept through the infinitesimal crack in the stucco, the damaged area of what used to be Minseok's room. A memory flashed of Junmyeon asking if Yixing wanted to fix it, since he lacked Minseok's predisposition to cold drafts, but Yixing merely shrugged in his ambient way.

  
"Whenever you have time," he'd said.

  
It was too late now. The crack that provided fresh air to the room inside now choked Tao. Jongin watched him pull thin fabric over his mouth. It looked like it hurt. He coughed again, weakly.  
In the distilled orange light, a shadow flickered.

  
"Chanyeol, get the fuck out," Baekhyun stepped away from Jongdae and closer to the window. He passed directly underneath Tao and almost stepped on his fallen beanie. The dichotomy of that linear image - one boy hung upside down and one walking upright to create a single seamless stroke - shook them.

  
Junmyeon's arm reached out. "Don't get too close."

  
"They're coming," Luhan stepped closer and pocketed his phone. "The firemen are coming. Five minutes tops."

  
"CHANYEOL," Baekhyun cupped his hands around his mouth, "GET OUT."

  
He lurched forward and smacked both palms against the front of the house. He coughed once, both shoulders trembling, and continued. A rhythmic, awful pound. Man vs. house. They watched him break to pieces on the front lawn. Jongin felt Kyungsoo shiver beside him.

  
Something small fell from Tao and hit the snow far below. Jongin squinted at the white plain until another one fell, and another, and another. Tears.

  
The wretched stink of smoke gathered thick. As one, they fumbled with sleeves and collars as makeshift air filters. The house cracked once, an ancient wooden shriek, and Tao moaned along with it.  
No one moved except Baekhyun. He stepped back and bent in half, wracked with coughs. Wheezing and sniffling, he reeled. Like a bolt of lightning, Jongdae slipped in and grabbed him. Baekhyun's knees buckled and they slid into the snow together. The fight was over. Heads bent together, they murmured.

  
Jongin glanced at Kyungsoo. He was fixated on the two sophomores, the homely shape of them. His eyes glittered unnaturally. Under the sparkling snow, the dismal streetlight, the wink of flame - he looked haunted.

  
It felt like another twelve years before a shape emerged at the open door.

  
Chanyeol staggered outside. In shaking arms he carried piles of paper, some singed at the corner or in zigzags across the middle. Ash streaked up his cheek and matted in a curl of dark hair. What looked like a shadow fell upon his shoulder, slicing a short line through his sweater, but then Jongin realized it was blood.

  
One porch step. Two steps. On the third, Chanyeol swayed.

  
Suddenly the reverie was shattered; everyone moved at once, a hymn of bitten-off cries and sighs and ohs, the panicked crunch of snow as Kyungsoo reached Chanyeol first. Where his hands reached up to grip Chanyeol's wrists, they flexed. It looked like it hurt. Close behind, Yixing and Luhan immediately stretched out the collar of shirt to examine the injured shoulder.

  
Where blood hit the snow, it steamed.

  
Yixing bundled the sheet music into his sweater. "What were you thinking? Thank you, oh my god, _thank you_ , but what were you thinking - "

  
"The cut's pretty shallow," Luhan pressed his palm down and Chanyeol winced. "Keep pressure on it. You'll be fine."

  
Kyungsoo skated his hand over the wound. "I've got it."

  
They stepped back. With his free hand, Kyungsoo flipped Chanyeol's wrists over. Pinpricks of tiny, glittering burns spotted both palms. Angry red welts twisted over several fingers. Jongin's stomach twisted at the sight, and he had to look away quick.

  
"Sorry," Chanyeol whispered. His voice was ravaged, disturbingly low and crackling worse than the fire. "Stupid, I know."

  
Kyungsoo inspected the trembling hands. His shoulders abruptly tensed, and he shifted backwards like he was about to throw a punch. His delicate hand dropped away. Chanyeol flinched, Jongin braced himself for impact, and -

  
Kyungsoo pulled Chanyeol down to him, rough and insistent, and then they were kissing. Not gently. Chests pressed together, mouths rough, knees bumping. From this angle, Jongin couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. They parted and started to whisper something indecipherable. He looked away. Luhan wolf-whistled.

  
"You dick-sucking fucktruck," Baekhyun struggled to his feet. "Got a death wish? C'mhere."

  
Chanyeol started to laugh, but it morphed into a volatile coughing fit. Kyungsoo rubbed a possessive hand over his back. It was odd to see. After the entire house skirted the topic for months, they touched each other so brazenly now. Jongin cringed when he remembered Chanyeol's skinny-ass legs. Too much was revealed when he barged into the basement unannounced. A mistake.

  
As if daring someone to comment, Kyungsoo's eyes flitted around the makeshift circle. Jongin tried to arrange a smile on his face. It didn't feel like it worked. It felt like stretching cardboard.

  
"Still here, guys," Tao called. "I'm still here."

 

* * *

 

 

_171601, GREEK ROW_

  
Sehun ignored the firetruck.

  
It blew by with lights, sirens, the whole shebang. A common sight in the city. He turned up the volume on AGUST D and yet again contemplated how Yixing and Baekhyun got away with sharing underwear all semester before someone - Luhan - finally noticed. He'd been thinking about it for two weeks and still couldn't figure out _why_. What the fuck was the point? A prank? A lifestyle choice, just to see if they could?  
  
It was another several steps before he noticed he stood at the junction of Greek row. The firetruck had careened down his own street, bypassing houses he knew well.

  
He picked up his pace. One boot caught in the snow and he shook it impatiently. Not that Chi Omega had stirred up too much trouble while he was gone - winter break was only a couple weeks long. Jongin spammed him with cute farewell pictures of Monggu just this morning. Everything was fine.

  
And yet. The surreal, heavy feeling in his stomach didn't dissipate. Sehun hitched his bag higher on his shoulder and walked faster. Damn long legs should be more effective in these situations.  
Through the thin haze of falling snow, he could see the Chi Omega house. Lights flickered inside. It looked like a group stood outside the house - doing what? Why was there a congregation on their front lawn?

  
The firetruck turned at the end of the street. It slowed down. Sehun heard the brakes screech halfway down the street. It stopped right in front of the Chi Omega house.

  
_Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck_ \- he bolted.

  
Gasping and sliding over the snow on the sidewalk, he skirted curious students petering out of their own Greek houses to watch the drama unfold. That was his house. Those were his brothers. He wrinkled his nose under the acrid barrage of smoke. As he jogged onto the front lawn, backpack smacking with every step, an awful shadow took shape on the balcony.

  
_What the fuck did I walk into?_

  
It was a scene out of a disaster movie. Tao hung suspended by an ankle. He sniffled and swayed in front of a raging fire on the second floor. Three men in head-to-toe yellow uniforms shoved past him with a hose. They stampeded into the house. Underneath Tao, a semicircle of people craned their necks up to watch.

  
No one noticed Sehun's approach. Sheet music fluttered through the snow. For some reason unbeknownst to him, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol stood off to the side, covered in ash and swapping spit with no reservations. What the fuck. Okay.

  
Then he saw Jongin.

  
White-blond hair speckled with snow, he stood utterly motionless and staring up at Tao. The broken pucker of his lips suggested he'd bitten them until bloody. Both shoulders hunched forward in a motion that Sehun immediately recognized: he was trying not to cry.

  
Sehun stepped towards the remnants of his frat. "Jonginnie," he said, and his voice cracked.

  
"Hey," Jongin said, and opened his arms. They clung to each other.

  
From over their shoulders, he heard Junmyeon's sigh of relief. Someone else sniffled. The overwhelming, instant panic that imploded in his chest upon watching the firetruck stop in front of the house faded to a controlled fear. Even now, when he pushed his nose into Jongin's hair, he caught sight of a firefighter venturing onto the balcony to reach for Tao. The smoke cleared. Through the window, they could see a blast of water spouting in the doorway. Everything would be fine.

  
"My train was only delayed one hour," Sehun sniffed. "What - what happened?"

  
Then, from the gloom, Baekhyun's voice: _"I made you seolleongtang, Sehunnie!"_

**Author's Note:**

> tw: Sehun and Baekhyun are drugged at a Halloween party. there are no unwanted sexual advances or anything of the sort.  
> tw: Chansoo hook up whilst tipsy, but consent is clear.
> 
> for reference, in the 16-17 school year:  
> freshmen - Jongin, Sehun, Tao  
> sophomores - Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, Chen  
> juniors - Yixing  
> seniors - Junmyeon, Luhan, Minseok


End file.
